HISTORIG  GARDENS 


OF 


VIRGINIA 


I'HE  JAMES  RIVER  GARDEN  CLUB 


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JUL  1  8  1985 


Historic   Gardens   of  Virginia 

Compiled  by  The  James  River  Garden  Club 
Member  of  The  Garden  Club  of  America 


SECOND  EDITION 


COPYRKiHT    1923 
THE    JAMES    RIVER    GARDEN    CI.UB 
RICHMOND,    VA. 


ni:i)icATi:n 


J^v^,  ^albern  Courtnep  Patter£(on 

FOUNDKK   AND   FIRST   PRKSIDKNT   OF 
TIIK   JAMI'.S   KI\I:K   CARDI'N   CI.UB 


FOREWORD 

O  all  who  made  the  compilation  of  this  book  a 
possibility,  the  James  River  Garden  Club  is  deeply- 
grateful,  for  it  has  but  taken  the  garden  histories, 
which  their  owners  generously  unrolled  that  the 
public  might  see,  and  bound  them  Into  one  volume, 
hoping  that  in  the  future  it  may  prove  an  inspira- 
tion in  garden  lore. 

The  revival  of  Interest  in  old-fashioned  gardens,  the  enthusi- 
asm which  has  recently  developed  for  their  restoration  and  pres- 
ervation; the  passion  for  the  past  which  is  in  the  air  and  is  having 
a  marked  influence  on  landscape  architecture,  encouraged  our 
Historic  Committee  to  make  a  study  of  the  old  gardens  of  Vir- 
ginia. This  manifestation  has  led  to  our  research  with  historical 
and  horticultural  intent. 

Until  now,  the  State  possessing  more  colonial  and  early  Re- 
publican gardens  than  any  other  has  made  no  attempt  to  preserve 
their  histories,  though  it  must  be  remembered  that  the  oldest  were 
planned  and  planted  before  the  corner-stone  of  America  was  firmly 
laid  in  Virginia  soil.  Their  space  was  carved  from  the  un-dated 
forest;  their  designs  were  borrowed  from  countries  abroad  and 
seeds  for  them  journeyed  from  far  overseas  to  bloom  through  the 
years  as  the  multi-great-grandchildren  of  their  original  wealth  of 
flowers.  This  is  the  only  book  which  has  undertaken  to  tell  the 
stories  which  should  possess  deep  significance  for  every  American, 
as  they  have  more  than  a  mere  local  interest.  And  these  stories 
have  been  collected  by  personal  visits  paid  by  the  authors  to  the 
old  gardens.  Rare  histories,  valuable  letters,  garden  records  and 
personal  reminiscences  have  been  placed  at  our  disposal  with  a 
gracious  readiness,  making  of  the  task  a  sincere  labor  of  love. 
The  pilgrimage  to  each  garden  has  been  fraught  with  a  pleasure 
which  we  hope,  through  these  pages,  to  share  with  the  reader. 

[3] 


Foreword 


A  large  part  of  this  material  has  never  before  been  made  public. 
Many  of  the  illustrations  are  entirely  original  and  were  made 
expressly  for  this  book  and  all  but  four  of  the  garden  plans  were 
drawn  especially  for  it. 

But  the  book  makes  no  claim  for  literary  merit.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  the  introduction,  it  is  altogether  the  work  of  amateurs. 
Nor  does  it  profess  to  tell  all  about  Virginia's  old  gardens.  It  does 
not  undertake  to  tabulate  all  their  beauties  and  recite  everything 
for  which  they  are  famed.  It  tells  but  little  of  the  celebrated  men 
and  women  who  have  trod  their  paths,  for  throughout  the  aim  has 
been  for  historic  accuracy  rather  than  romantic  interest  or  literary 
value. 

The  editor  would  record  her  grateful  appreciation  of  the  work 
of  the  Historic  Garden  Committee  and  all  those  who  so  kindly 
aided  in  the  research.  She  acknowledges  particularly  the  courtesy 
of  the  garden  owners,  the  kindness  of  those  who  lent  paintings, 
prints  or  photographs  for  reproduction  and  all  who,  personally, 
drew  or  had  drawn,  the  plans  which  lend  such  interest  and  value 
to  the  book.  Great  thanks  are  due  to  Mr.  William  G.  Stanard 
and  Mr.  Robert  A.  Lancaster,  Jr.,  authorities  on  Virginia  history. 

It  has  been  with  a  desire  of  lifting  the  latch  of  some  of  the  old 
gates  and,  through  the  courtesy  of  their  owners.  Inviting  the  reader 
to  enter  the  gardens  that  the  James  River  Garden  Club  has  under- 
taken, before  it  is  too  late,  to  "gather  up  the  fragments  that  re- 
main." 

Edith  Dabney  Tunis  Sale. 

Tuckahoe,  Virginia. 

March,   1923. 


[4] 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 


THE  JAMES  RIVER  PLANTATION  BELT 

PAGE 

The  Gardens  of  Williamsburg 19 

Claremont    Manor          27 

Tedington 31 

Brandon 35 

Upper   Brandon 39 

Weyanoke 41 

Flower  de  Hundred 43 

Westover 47 

Appomattox 54 

Shirley 61 

Ampthill 65 

RICHMOND  AND  VICINITY 

Church  Hill -j^ 

The  Archer  House :      .  78 

Valentine  Museum 81 

An   Old  Richmond  Garden 84 

Brook    Hill 90 

Hickory  Hill 93 

WiLLIAMSVILLE           99 


Airwell 


105 


Oakland io8 

THE  UPPER  JAMES 

Tuckahoe 113 

Norwood 122 

Rock    Castle 124 

Elk    Hill 129 

Bremo 136 

Recess I39 

Point   of    Fork 142 

\Vestend 145 

THE  TIDEWATER  TRAIL 

Lawson  Hall 151 

Poplar   Hall I54 

Green  Plains 158 

Poplar    Grove         161 

Toddsbury 164 

White  Marsh 167 

Sherwood 170 

Belleville i75 

Hampstead 178 


[5] 


Table     of    Contents 


THE  POTOMAC  AND  RAPPAHANNOCK  p^cE 

Stratford 185 

Mount   Vernon 189 

GuNSTON   Hall 198 

Chatham 203 

Mary    Washington's     Garden 206 

The   Mal'ry  Garden   in  Fredericksburg 209 

Fall    Hill 213 

Sabine  Hall 217 

Mount    Airy 221 

AvENEL 226 

Prospect  Hill 230 

Gay  Mont 234 

THE  PIEDMONT  SECTION 

Oak  Hill 241 

Oatlands 245 

Montpelier 250 

WooDiiERRY    Forest 255 

Barboursville 258 

Horseshoe 260 

Castle    Hill 265 

Redlands 268 

MoRVEN 271 

p-ARMINGTON 273 

Bloomfield 276 

monticello        280 

MiRADOR 284 

Red    Hill 287 

The  Oaks 291 

Berry   Hill,  Halifax   County 295 

Bellevue 299 

Banister    Lodge 302 

Staunton    Hill 305 

PuESTwouLD 308 

Dan's  Hill 315 

The  Valley  of  the  Dan 317 

Oak  Hill,  Pittsylvania  County : 320 

Bekry  Hill,  Pittsylvania  County 324 

THE  VALLEY  OF  VIRGINIA 

Folly ' 329 

Carter  Hall 334 

Saratoga 342 

Annefield 344 

BEYOND  THE  MOUNTAINS 

The  Meadows 348 

Carpet    Hill 353 


[6] 


TABLE   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


COLOUR  ENGRAVINGS 

"Castle   Hill" Frontispiece 

Illumination        Title  Page 

Westover Facing  Page  52 

Garden  Walk  at   Shirley 60 

The  House  at  Tuckahoe  from  the  Box  Garden — Jefferson  School  House  in 

the  Foreground 116 

Plan  of  the  Tuckahoe  Garden 117 

Elevation    of    Hampstead           180 

Mount    Vernon 188 

Box  Garden  at  Mount  Vernon 189 

The  Garden  at  Sabine  Hall 224 

Mount  Airy 225 

The   Garden    at    Montpelier 252 

The  Bloomfield   Garden        276 

PLANS  OF  THE  GARDENS 

Claremont  Manor Facing  Page  28 

Brandon 37 

Upper    Brandon 39 

Flower  de  Hundred 43 

Westover 53 

Appomattox 56 

Shirley 61 

The  Archer   House 80 

Valentine   Museum 84 

Anderson  House •  86 

Hickory  Hill 93 

Airwell io5 

Norwood 121 

Rock   Castle 128 

Elk  Hill 133 

Bremo  Recess I37 

Point  of  Fork 140 

White  Marsh 168 

Sherwood I73 

Belleville I77 

Mount  Vernon 192 

Gunston  Hall I99 

Belvoir 202 

Sabine    Hall 217 

Mount   Airy 225 

Avenel 226 

Prospect  Hill 230 

Gay  Mont 235 

Oak  Hill,  Loudoun  County 245 

Oatlands        249 

[7] 


Table     of     Illustrations 


Woodherry   Forest Facing  Page  256 

Horseshoe 261 

Redlands 269 

Morvcn 272 

Farmiiigton        274 

Mirador 2H4 

Red   Hill 2S7 

Berry  Hill 299 

Bellevue 300 

Banister  Lodge 305 

Prestwould 30Q 

Carter  Hall 336 

The    Meadows        348 

Carpet    Hill ^-,2 

HALF-TONE  ENGRAVINGS 

The   Saunders   House Facing  Page  20 

Peyton   Randolph   House 20 

Bassett  Hall,  Where  Tom  Moore  Wrote  "The  Firefly" 21 

Home  of  George  Wythe,  Where  the  Once  Beautiful  Gardens  May  be  Traced  24 

The  Peachy  House  from  the  Balcony  of  Which  LaFayette  Spoke      ...  24 

The  Tucker  House,  Where  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  Lived  as  a  Boy     .     .  24 

Tazewell  Hall,  Home  of  Sir  John  Randolph 24 

Bruton  Parish  Church,  Where  a  Pink  Hawthorne  Tree  Blooms  Above  Masses 

of  Violets  and  Narcissi 25 

Maycox,  on  James  River,  Site  of  First  Attempt  at  Horticulture  in  America  25 
Carter's  Grove  on  the  Lower  James,  Where  a  Terraced  Garden   Once  Led 

Down    to   the    River 25 

The  Little  Garden  at  Claremont 29 

Entrance  to  "The  Old  Mansion"  at  Claremont 29 

Tedington,  Home  of   the   Lightfoots 32 

Brandon,   Original   Seat  of  the  Harrison   Family 33 

June  in  the  Garden  at  Brandon 36 

Vista  of  James  River  in  the  Garden  at  Brandon 38 

Upper   Brandon 40 

The  Garden  at  Upper  Brandon 40 

James  River  Near  Upper  Brandon 41 

Weyanoke 41 

Flower    de    Hundred 42 

Westover,  the  Home  of  William  Byrd 44 

Garden  Walk  at  Westover 45 

Tomb  of  William  Byrd  H  at  W'cstover 48 

River  Wall   at  Westover 49 

A  Gateway  at  Westover 56 

Appomattox — Founded  by  Francis  Eppes  in  1635 •  ?<7 

Cucumber  Tree  at  Violet  Banks,  the  Shore  Estate  Near  Appomattox,  With 

Spread  of  One  Hundred  Feet.    General  Lee  Camped  in  Its  Shade  During 

the    Campaign    of    1864 57 

Shirley,  Original  Home  of  the  Carters 64 

Falling  Creek,  Site  of  the  First  Iron  Furnace  in  America 65 

Ampthill,  Home  of  Colonel  Archibald  Gary ^ 

Old  Stone  Bridge  Over  Falling  Creek 69 


[6] 


Table     of     Illustrations 


The  Garden  of  the  Adams  House  in  Richmond Facing  Page  72 

Original    Home   of    Richard   Adams,   Built   About    1760,   One   of   the   Oldest 

Houses  in  Richmond 72 

View  Through  the  Garden  from  the  Portico  of  the  Adams  House     ....  73 

Carrington  House  on  Church  Hill 73 

The  Archer   House  in   Richmond 76 

The  Garden  of  the  Archer  House 77 

Garden  at  the  Valentine  Museum  in  Richmond 81 

South  Front  of  House  of  General  Joseph  R.  Anderson — Now  the  Site  of  the 

Jefferson  Hotel 85 

The  Home  of  General  Joseph  R.  Anderson 87 

The   Brook   Hill   Garden 90 

Entrance  to  the  Park  at  Brook  Hill  in  Winter 9^ 

Hickory   Hill Q2 

Box  Walk  at   Hickory  Hill 96 

Formal  Garden  at  Hickory  Hill 97 

Box  Trees  Shading  the  Lowest  Fall  at  Hickory  Hill 98 

An   Arch  of   Boxwood   at  Williamsville 99 

Williamsville,  Hanover  County 99 

A  Corner  in  the  Airwell  Garden 104 

Airwell,    Hanover    County         104 

Claremont,  Surry  County 104 

Edgewood,  One  of  the  Berkeley  Homes  in   Planover  County 105 

Thomas  Nelson  Page  in  the  Oakland  Garden no 

Oakland,  the  Birthplace  of  Thomas  Nelson  Page,  in  Hanover  County     .     .110 

The   Box  "Maze"   at  Tuckahoe,   Goochland   County in 

North  Front  of  Tuckahoe  When  the  Daffodils  Bloom 112 

The  Tuckahoe  Garden  in  June 113 

The  River  Terraces  at   Wilton,  the   Randolph   Home  on   the  Lower  James, 

Where  Jonquils  Taken  from  Tuckahoe  are  Lavishly  Naturalized     .      .     .  120 

The   Cedar   Lane   at  Tuckahoe 120 

Norwood,  the   Kennon   Home  in   Powhatan   County 121 

A  Garden  Entrance  at  Rock  Castle 124 

Rock  Castle,  the  Rutherfoord  Home  in  Goochland  County 125 

Box  Trees  at  Elk  Hill  in  Winter 129 

Sempervirens  Boxwood  at  Elk  Hill 132 

Serpentine  Brick  Walk  Leading  from  House  to  Garden  at  Elk  Hill     .     .     .  132 

Elk  Hill— North  Front I33 

Elk  Hill— South  Front I33 

River  Front   of   Lower   Bremo 136 

The  Hillside  Garden  at  Lower  Bremo 136 

Stone  Garden   Wall  at   Recess 137 

Point    of    Fork 140 

North  Front  of  Upper  Bremo 141 

Recess 141 

Westend,  Louisa  County 144 

Lilies  in   the  Garden   at   Westend I45 

The  Garden  at  Lawson  Hall 150 

Lawson  Hall,  Princess  Anne  County 150 

Sylvan  Scene,  Northampton  County,  Home  of  the  Fitzhughs 151 

Poplar  Hall,  Norfolk  County 154 

The  Park  at  White  Marsh  with  its  Remarkable  Variety  of  Trees     ....  155 


[9] 


Table     of    Illustrations 


A  Vine-Covered  Outbuilding  at  Gordonsdale,  Fauquier  County      Facing  Page  155 

Green  Plains,  Mathews  County 160 

Poplar  Grove,  Home  of  Captain  Sally  Tompkins 161 

Serpentine  Brick  Wall  at  Poplar  Grove 164 

Toddsbury,   Gloucester   County 165 

WTiite  Marsh,  the  Home  of  the  Tabbs,  Gloucester  County 168 

Scalloped  Brick  Wall  at  Green  Plains,  Mathews  County 169 

Old  Icehouse  at  Toddsbury,  Gloucester  County 169 

Sherwood,    Gloucester    County 169 

Giant  Crepe  Myrtle  at  Sherwood 172 

Belleville 176 

A  Corner  of  the  Sabine  Hall  Garden 178 

Formal  Flower  Beds  at  Sabine  Hall 178 

Hampstead w 179 

Air  View  of  Mount  Vernon  on  the  Potomac 190 

Formal  Garden  at  Mount  Vernon 191 

The  Mount  Vernon  Garden  Showing  High  Box  Hedge 191 

Gunston  Hall,  the  Home  of  George  Mason I93 

A  Garden  View  at  Gunston   Hall 198 

Entrance  Gates  at  Gunston  Hall 198 

Chatham,  the  Fitzhugh  Homestead 203 

Mary   Washington's   Garden 208 

The  Mary  Washington  House  in  Fredericksburg 208 

Matthew  Fontaine  Maury's  Garden 209 

Blandfield  on  the  Rappahannock,  Built  by  William  Beverley  About  1760  .  .  209 
Gordonsdale,  the  Scott  Homestead  in  Fauquier  County,  Noted  for  Extensive 

Boxwood   Hedges 216 

The  Garden  at  Sabine  Hall 2t6 

Sabine   Hall 217 

Mount  Airy,  Home  of  the  Tayloes 224 

Bridal  Wreath  at  Prospect  Hill 227 

Prospect  Hill,  Caroline  County 227 

Gay  Mont,  CaroUne  County 231 

A  Garden  Walk  at  Gay  Mont 234 

The  "Beauty  Spot"  at  Gay  Mont 234 

The  Famous  "Ring  of  Oaks"  at  New  Market  in  Caroline  County,  Home  of 

Colonel   George  Baylor,  Aide  to  General  Washington 238 

Oak  Hill,  the  Home  of   President  Monroe 239 

Driveway  Planned  by  President  Monroe  at  Oak  Hill 244 

The  Portico  at  Oak  Hill 244 

Oatlands  and  The  Garden  Stairway  at  Oatlands 248 

Montpelier,  Home  of  President  Madison 249 

Woodberry  Forest,  Built  by  General  William  Madison 253 

The  Garden  at  Woodberry  Forest 257 

Barboursville — From  an  Old  Painting 258 

Frascati,  Home  of  Judge  Philip  Pendleton  Barbour  in  Orange  County    .     .     .  259 

Horseshoe,  Culpeper  Co.,  Once  Part  of  the  Estate  of  Sir  Alexander  Spotswood  260 

Tree  Box  Which  Dominates  the  Garden  at  Horseshoe 264 

Castle  Hill,  Home  of  William  Cabell  Rives 264 

Tree  Box  at  Castle  Hill 265 

Redlands,  the  Albemarle  County  Seat  of  the  Carters 265 

The  Garden  at  Redlands 268 


[10] 


Table    of    Illustrations 


Morven,   Albemarle    County Facing  Page  270 

The  Garden  at  Morven 271 

Farmington,  Albemarle  County 273 

Small  Box  Garden  at  Farmington 275 

Boxwood  in  the  Sweet  Briar  Garden,  Amherst  County 275 

A  Garden  Walk  at   Bloomfield 277 

Bloomtield,   Albemarle    County 277 

Monticello — East  and  West  Fronts 280 

Ridgeway,  One  of  the  Notable  Gardens  in  Albemarle  County 280 

Edge  Hill,  the  Home  of  Martha  Jefferson  Randolph 281 

Serpentine  Wall  at  the  University  of  Virginia 281 

The  Beautiful  Garden  at  Greenfield,  Home  of  the  Reads  in  Charlotte  County  285 

Red  Hill,  the  Home  of  Patrick  Henry,  Original  House  on  the  Left    ....  286 

Boxwood  at   Red   Hill 288 

The  Tomb  of  Patrick  Henry  at  Red  Hill 289 

Old  Box  Garden  of  The  Oaks 292 

The  Oaks,  Charlotte  County 293 

Part  of  the  Garden  at  Red  Hill 294 

The  Ailanthus  Avenue  at  Berry  Hill 295 

The  Pillared  House  at  Berry  Hill,  Home  of  the  Bruces 298 

Bellevue,  Halifax  County 301 

Banister  Lodge,  the  Clark  Homestead  in  Halifax  County 304 

Staunton     Hill        306 

A  Bit  of  the  Park  at  Staunton  Hill 307 

Prestwould,  Mecklenburg  County,  Built  by  Sir  Peyton  Skipwith  About  1756    .  308 

Orchard  Hillside  at  Prestwould 3^0 

Old  Stone  Wall  and  Gateway  at  Prestwould 311 

Dan's  Hill,  Pittsylvania  County 311 

The  Dan  River — Near  this  spot  General  Greene  crossed  when  he  retreated 

before  Cornwallis  during  the  Revolution 314 

The  Box  Hedged  Walk  to  the  Summer  House  at  Dan's  Hill 314 

A  Corner  of  the  Formal  Garden  at  Chatmoss,  Henry  County 316 

Boxwood   Planted  at   Chatmoss  in   1845 316 

Garden  at  Briarfield,  near  Danville 317 

Berry  Hill,  Seat  of  the  Hairstons  in  Henry  County 317 

Oak  Ridge,  Pittsylvania  County,  the  Wilson  Home 318 

The  Broad  Garden  Walk  at  Oak  Ridge 318 

River  View  from  the  Briarfield  Garden 319 

Thornfield,  the  Home  of  Joseph  H.  Scales 319 

Oak   Hill,   Pittsylvania   County 320 

A  Garden  Walk  and  Box  Hedges  at  Oak  Hill 321 

Serpentine  Garden  Wall  at  Folly 328 

Folly,  One  of  the  Notable  Homes  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia 328 

A  Corner  of  the  Garden  at  Folly 329 

Carter  Hall,  Home  of  the  Burwells 329 

Carter   Hall — From  an  Old   Print 337 

Winter  at  Carpet  Hill,  Washington  County 340 

Saratoga,  Built  by  General  Daniel  Morgan  About  1777 342 

The  Garden  and  Old  Mill  Pond  at  Saratoga 343 

Annefield,  Qarke  County 346 

Flowers  and  Hedges  in  the  Annefield  Garden 347 

The  Meadows,  Washington  County 349 


["] 


INTRODUCTORY 

OD  ALMIGHTY,"  saith  Bacon,  "first  planted  a 
garden;  and  indeed  it  is  the  greatest  refreshment 
to  the  spirits  of  man," 

Let  us  add,  "Of  women  also." 
For — at  least  in  Virginia — women  and  gardens 
go  together.  Perhaps  it  is  so  in  those  British  Isles 
from  which  sprang  Virginia.  At  any  rate,  dwell  in  memory  or  in 
imagination  upon  Virginia  gardens  and  there  arise  women — 
in  late  seventeenth  century  dress,  in  eighteenth  century  dress,  in 
nineteenth  century,  in  twentieth  century  dress.  Men  also  have 
planned,  men  also  walk  in  these  gardens,  and  there  forever  children 
sing  and  play.  But  women,  young  and  in  prime  and  old — it  is 
chiefly  women.  They  move  among  the  box-bushes;  they  train  the 
roses  and  tie  the  hollyhocks;  they  sow  pansies  and  candytuft  and 
snapdragon  and  mignonette;  they  cut  the  dead  away,  they  gather 
for  bowls  and  vases,  gather  from  daffodil  and  lilac  to  the  last  mari- 
gold and  mourning  bride.  They  are  there  in  the  spring  time,  in 
the  summer  and  the  autumn. 

For  Virginia  gardens  are  not,  after  all,  affairs  of  huge  expanse 
and  expense,  given  over  to  gardeners,  the  owners'  knees  and  fingers 
warned  off.  After  all,  they  are  simple — Virginia  gardens — simple 
and  sweet.  We  call  them  old.  Many  of  them  are  old,  even  very 
old  as  our  country  goes.  Others  are  not  so  old.  But  alike  they  are 
fragrant,  alike  they  are  dear.  There  is  something — I  do  not 
know — they  are  poetic. 

So  it  is  fitting  that  this  book — the  book  of  the  Historic  Gardens 
of  Virginia — should  be  a  book  thought  of  and  largely  written  by 
women.  Once  they  interchanged  knowledge  of  one  anothers' 
gardens  through  letters  and  long,  leisurely  visits.  Nowadays  they 
make  Garden  Associations.     Such  an  one,  the  James  River  Garden 

[13] 


%sKe» — 

Introductory 


Club,  mothers  this  volume.  Again  to  women  is  owed  garden 
pleasure — the  whiff  of  box,  of  mignonette,  of  clove  pinks  and 
damask  roses;  the  sense  of  sunny  brick  walls,  of  butterflies  and 
bees  and  lovers  and  children  in  a  world  of  blossom;  an  old,  sweet 
wind  of  garden  romance,  garden  poetry. 

Gardens  began  early  in  Virginia.  At  Varina,  in  1614,  lived 
that  wedded  pair,  John  Rolfe  and  Pocahontas,  daughter  of  Pow- 
hatan. Rolfe  experimented  with  tobacco,  and  who  shall  say  that  in 
turn  he  did  not  show  the  young,  wonderful  Indian  woman  how 
they  set  flowering  bushes,  how  they  made  beds  of  flowers,  in  Nor- 
folk, in  England?  In  1625,  on  the  banks  of  the  James,  George 
Sandys  translated  Ovid's  Metamorphoses.  Surely  he  had  some 
planting  of  flowers  about  his  door!  In  1642,  at  Greenspring,  Sir 
William  Berkeley  had  a  garden  of  extent  and  colour.  When,  a 
little  later,  the  King's  men,  the  cavaliers,  fled  with  their  families 
to  Virginia  from  an  England,  no  longer  Stuart,  there  came  with 
them  garden  ideas  and  garden  seeds  and  slips  and  cuttings.  Wash- 
ington, Mason  and  Lee,  Pendleton,  Randolph,  Gary,  Madison, 
Monroe,  Brodnax,  Skipwith,  and  many  others — these  men  and 
their  wives  and  sisters  and  daughters  soon  had  their  sunlighted, 
their  moonlighted  gardens  in  Virginia.  English  squires,  English 
and  Scots  merchants  turned  Virginia  planters — near  their  houses 
of  wood  or  of  brick  rise  gardens  with  fruit  trees,  with  old,  fair 
shrubs,  with  low,  formal  beds  of  blossom,  with  paths  winding  or 
straight,  with  arbors  and  summer-houses.  Jamestown  is  burned  and 
Williamsburg  arises,  and  there  are  gardens  still  in  Williamsburg, 
gardens  of  lilac  and  daffodils,  violets  and  roses. 

In  1732,  leaving  his  own  garden  at  Westover,  William  Byrd 
travels  to  Germanna  and  with  Governor  Spotswood  takes  "a  turn 
in  the  Garden.  .  .  .  Three  terrace  walks  that  fall  in  slopes  one 
below  another."  The  valley  is  settled,  and  gardens  arise  about  the 
homes  of  Lewises  and  Campbells  and  McDowells  and  Gays  and 
Prestons  and  Wilsons  and  Alexanders,  and  many  another.  And 
there  is  Greenway  Court  where  the  young  surveyor,  George  Wash- 


[14] 


Introductory 


ington,  walks  and  talks  with  Lord  Fairfax.  And  in  March,  1774, 
in  Northumberland  County,  young  Mr.  Philip  Fithian,  the  tutor 
at  Nomini  Hall,  "has  the  honour  of  taking  a  walk  with  Mrs. 
Carter  through  the  Garden,  .  .  .  We  gathered  cowslips  in  full 
bloom  and  as  many  violets.  The  English  honeysuckle  is  all  out 
in  green  and  tender  leaves."  Presently  he  rides  to  Mount  Airy, 
in  Richmond  County,  and  finds  "a  large,  well-formed,  beautiful 
garden,  as  fine  in  every  respect  as  any  I  have  seen  in  Virginia. 
In  it  stand  four  large,  beautiful,  marble  statues." 

Throughout  the  Revolutionary  and  the  post-Revolutionary 
periods  come  whiffs  of  colour,  song  and  perfume.  There  are  flowers 
at  Mount  Vernon,  and  flowers  at  Red  Hill  where  lives  Patrick 
Henry,  and  John  Marshall  has  his  flowers  in  Richmond,  and 
Jefferson  at  Monticello.  Of  Jefferson  his  granddaughter  says, 
"Every  day  he  rode  through  his  plantation  and  walked  in  his 
garden  ....  I  remember  the  planting  of  the  first  hyacinths  and 
tulips.  There  was  'Marcus  Aurelius'  and  'The  King  of  the  Gold 
Mine,'  the  'Roman  Empress'  and  the  'Queen  of  the  Amazons.'  .... 
When  the  flowers  were  in  bloom  and  we  were  in  ecstacies  over 
the  rich  purple  and  crimson,  or  pure  white,  or  delicate  lilac,  or 
pale  yellow  of  the  blossoms,  how  he  would  sympathize  with  our 
admiration,  or  discuss  with  my  mother  and  elder  sister  new  group- 
ings and  combinations  and  contrasts.  Oh,  these  were  happy 
moments  for  us  and  for  him!" 

The  first  sixty  years  of  the  nineteenth  century  was  probably  the 
heyday  of  gardens  in  Virginia.  Then  long  and  dread  war,  and 
houses  burned  and  gardens  trampled!  Many  old  houses,  many 
old  gardens,  have  disappeared  from  Virginia,  But  many  are  left. 
And  other  gardens  have  been  begun,  are  beginning,  flourish  now 
and  will  flourish  more  and  more. 

Those  that  are  written  of  in  this  book  are  major  gardens,  old, 
well-known  pleasaunces.  But  it  were  odd,  thinking  of  Virginia,  if 
the  thousand,  if  the  fifty  thousand,  little  gardens  did  not  come  into 
mind,  if  the  flowers  in  old  towns,  if  the  flowers  in  village  yards, 


[15] 


Introductory 

If  the  flowers  about  farmhouses  did  not  rise  in  beauty,  in  every  hue, 
in  fragrance!  If  the  flowers  around  coloured  folks'  houses  did 
not  rise — the  morning  glories,  the  scarlet  bean,  the  prince's 
feather  and  zinnias,  the  old  pink  roses,  the  tiger  lilies.  Close  the 
eyes,  let  yesterday  and  tomorrow  rise  with  today,  and  all  Virginia 
is  a  garden!  It  smells  of  the  rose,  it  smells  of  the  locust  blossom, 
it  smells  of  the  cedar. 

So  beautiful  are  the  very  names  of  homes  and  gardens  in  this 
volume!  Flower  de  Hundred,  Weyanoke,  Mount  Airy,  Sabine  Hall, 
Folly,  Oatlands,  Sweet  Briar,  Avenel,  Chatham,  Castle  Hill,  Shir- 
ley, Westover,  Brandon,  and  Upper  Brandon,  Tuckahoe,  Rosegill, 
Prestwould,  Mirador,  Morven,  and  many  another!  As  beautiful 
as  the  old  names  of  the  old  roses. 

"A  garden  is  a  lovesome  thing  (God  wot!) 
Rose  plot, 
Fringed  pool, 
Ferned  grot. 
The  veriest  school  of  Peace ;  and  yet  the  fool 
contends  that   God  is  not !'' 

They  who  make  and  use  and  open  to  others  a  garden  are  ser- 
vants of  us  all.  So  let  us  praise  them  who  made  Virginia  gardens. 
And  let  us  praise  this  book  which  opens  for  many  the  wicket  gate. 

Mary  Johnston. 


[i6] 


The  James  River  Plantation  Belt 


GARDENS   OF   WILLIAMSBURG 

VEN  the  most  skeptical  person  must  admit  that  the 
narrow  strip  of  land  lying  between  the  James  and 
the  York  rivers  is  America's  richest  historical 
possession.  Here  are  the  tombs  of  those  who 
risked  their  lives  to  build  a  nation.  Here  are  old 
churches  and  courthouses  standing  as  they  stood 
in  days  long  past  and  gone.  This  is  the  spot  where  Bacon  planned 
his  disastrous  rebellion,  and  here  is  the  college  where  Jefferson 
and  Marshall  first  gained  fame.  Here,  too,  is  the  site  of  the 
famous  Raleigh  Tavern,  where  Jefferson  danced  with  "Fair 
Belinda,"  and  the  Apollo,  where  many  jovial  feasts  were  held 
among  the  great  men  of  the  Colony. 

The  situation  of  Williamsburg,  upon  a  ridge  midway  between 
the  two  rivers,  was  wisely  chosen,  and  gave  rise  to  the  first 
name,  "Middle  Plantation."  The  town  was  impaled  by  Sir  John 
Hervey,  Governor  of  Virginia  in  1632,  and  in  1699  succeeded 
Jamestown  as  the  capital  of  Virginia. 

Architecturally,  the  little  city  is  white  and  rambling  and 
dormer-windowed,  and  wandering  dreamily  through  these  aisles 
of  history  one  revels  in  the  romantic  houses,  the  oldest  all  being 
built  along  the  same  lines,  in  accordance  with  a  law  which  con- 
sidered the  number  of  stories  in  its  taxation. 

Williamsburg  the  quaint — so  the  old  town  has  been  called  for 
years — is  truly  a  place  of  many  memories.  On  some  of  its  streets 
there  still  stand  aged  trees  that  shaded  Washington  and  Corn- 
wallis,  and  about  some  of  the  houses  the  latter-day  gardens  are 
reminiscent  of  the  time  of  the  English  Georges.  One  is  prone  to 
dream  at  the  whispered  name  of  Williamsburg,  for  it  belongs  to 
the  picturesque  Virginia  of  yesterday — the  Virginia  of  feudal  life 
and  gallant  living,  of  adventurous  men  and  Watteau-like  women; 

[19] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

of  stage  coaches  and  boxwood  gardens.  Its  leafy  streets  and  lanes 
have  charmed  travelers  from  many  countries.  One  of  these,  the 
Marquis  de  Chastellux,  wrote  in  his  diary  in  1780:  "The  chief 
magnificence  of  the  Virginians  consists  in  furniture,  linen  and  plate; 
in  which  they  resemble  our  ancestors  who  had  neither  cabinets  nor 
wardrobes  in  their  castles,  but  contented  themselves  with  a  well- 
stored  cellar,  and  a  handsome  buffet.  If  they  sometimes  dissipate 
their  fortunes  it  is  by  gaming,  hunting  and  horse  races;  but  the 
latter  are  of  some  utility,  inasmuch  as  they  encourage  the  breed 
of  horses  which  are  really  very  handsome  in  Virginia." 

Standing  in  the  spring  sunlight  in  the  Williamsburg  of  today 
and  shutting  our  eyes  to  the  growing  city,  what  lover  of  history 
can  not  obtain  glimpses  of  the  panorama  of  the  past.  Through 
its  old  garden  gates  many  historic  figures  pass — Colonial  governors 
with  lords  and  ladies  from  foreign  shores;  awkward  Patrick  Henry 
with  his  tongue  of  silver  fire;  John  Marshall,  Thomas  Jefferson 
and  Richard  Henry  Lee.  Then  Washington,  LaFayette  and 
Rochambeau;  Cornwallis  the  conquered,  and  Tarleton,  too.  And 
in  the  days  of  the  early  Republic,  Madison  and  James  Monroe. 
Since  their  brave  day  nearly  every  president  of  the  United  States 
has,  at  some  time,  visited  the  picturesque  town. 

The  most  important  thoroughfare,  Duke  of  Gloucester  Street, 
begins  at  William  and  Mary  College,  to  end  at  the  Palace  Green. 
Using  this  as  a  central  or  starting  point,  a  quiet  ramble  through 
the  little  town  will  repay  one  with  interest  and  patriotic  thrills, 
as  each  street  has  its  particular  story;  around  every  corner,  about 
each  nook,  is  woven  a  web  of  historical  associations  that  bring  from 
the  dustiest  memory  an  answering  appreciation.  And,  though  some 
of  its  dwellers  have  modestly  said,  "There  are  no  gardens  in 
Williamsburg,"  this  ramble  along  shady  streets  and  about  century- 
old  houses  will  prove  that  in  the  springtime,  at  least,  the  whole  of 
the  town  is  one  beautiful,  old-fashioned  garden. 

The  Palace  Green,  lying  just  on  the  east  of  old  Bruton  Church, 
has  given  way  to  a  school  building,  which  was  constructed  of  the 

[20] 


The  Saunders'  House — Governor's  Office  on  the  Right 


Peyton  Randolph  House 


The    James    River    Plantation     Belt 

bricks  of  the  Governor's  palace.  The  latter,  which  stood  upon  this 
spot  until  just  after  the  Revolution,  has  been  described  as  a 
"magnificent  strcture  built  at  the  public  expense,  finished  and  beau- 
tified with  gates,  fine  gardens,  ofiices,  walks,  and  a  canal  and 
orchard  embracing  in  all  three  hundred  and  seventy  acres,  bordered 
with  lindens  brought  from  Scotland."  Where  the  Governor's 
garden  once  bloomed  so  gayly,  daffodils  and  buttercups  now  grow 
into  flower.  The  last  named  plants — ranunculus  acris — are  said 
to  be  direct  descendants  of  the  first  ever  in  this  country,  which 
were  brought  from  "Merrie  England"  to  adorn  the  palace  grounds. 
Wild  artichokes  take  up  the  golden  note  in  autumn  beneath  the 
boughs  of  trees  planted  by  loving  hands  as  a  memorial  to  the 
gallant  sons  of  James  City  County  who  gave  their  lives  in  the 
great  World  War. 

At  the  brown-stained  Wythe  house,  which  faces  the  Palace 
Green  and  adjoins  Bruton  churchyard,  cherokee  rose  vines  smilingly 
greet  one  before  the  gate  is  opened.  The  original  garden  laid  off 
on  formal,  English  lines,  was,  in  its  best  days,  hedged  with  box- 
wood, and  lay  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  A  long  walk  between  two 
flower-crowded  borders  was  its  dominant  feature,  and,  though 
most  of  the  old  lines  have  been  washed  away  by  the  rains  of  time, 
white  and  purple  lilacs  and  pink  crepe  myrtle  trees  succeed  the 
countless  jonquils  and  narcissi  that  come  up  on  the  lawn  each 
spring. 

This  house  was  the  home  of  George  Wythe,  designer  of  Vir- 
ginia's emblematic  seal  with  the  motto,  "Sic  Semper  Tyrannis," 
and  teacher  of  Jefferson,  Marshall  and  Monroe.  The  dwelling  is 
rich  in  history — in  traditionary  lore,  too — for  it  was  in  it  that 
Washington  lived  at  times  during  the  Revolution  and  where  mem- 
bers of  LaFayette's  suite  were  quartered.  And  legend  tells  of  two 
ghostly  visitors.  One,  the  wraith  of  Lady  Skipwith,  a  belle  and 
beauty  of  colonial  days,  who  restlessly  trips  through  the  ages  on 
high-heeled,  clicking  shoes,  to  be  known  as  the  dainty  dame  of  the 
tapping  tread.    The  other  tale  tells  of  a  young  French  officer  who 

[21] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

died  in  the  house  and  returns  punctiliously  to  prove  the  ghost  lore 
well  attested.  The  Wythe  house  is  faithfully  pictured  by  Ellen 
Glasgow,  in  "The  Voice  of  the  People,"  as  the  home  of  Judge 
Bassett. 

On  the  same  side  of  the  street  stands  the  white-columned 
dwelling  where  the  Pages  and  Saunders  lived  in  early  times.  The 
original  garden  at  this  place  must  have  been  among  the  most  pre- 
tentious in  Williamsburg,  and  even  now  the  well-defined  terraces 
compare  favorably  with  those  of  newer  design.  The  hospitable 
old  house  stands  upon  the  topmost  fall,  where  the  broad  lawn  is 
graced  by  two  large  magnolia  grandifloras  and  two  gnarled  crepe 
myrtle  trees.  Beneath  the  shade  of  an  ancient  mulberry  tree  and 
occasional  clumps  of  Japanese  pomegranate,  snowdrops,  jonquils 
and  blue  hyacinths  rival  each  other  for  bloom.  Most  years  the 
Star  of  Bethlehem  blossoms  so  thickly  along  this  fall  that  it  looks 
as  if  a  billowy  bridal  wreath  had  been  thrown  over  and  above  it. 
Shade  trees,  locust  and  hackberry,  grow  on  the  second  terrace; 
this  gives  way  gently  to  the  third,  which  ends  at  a  picturesque 
stream.  Beneath  the  old  willow  which  shades  this  grassy,  sloping 
bank.  General  Washington  is  said  to  have  held  important  con- 
ferences while  drinking  spiced  wine  with  officers  of  high  command. 

Across  the  Palace  Green  and  opposite  the  Wythe  and  Saunders 
houses  is  the  quaint  little  building  once  the  home  of  Governor  John 
Page.  Near  the  old  theatre,  as  it  was  in  Colonial  days,  this  little 
house  passed  from  history  into  fiction  as  the  home  of  the  heroine  of 
Mary  Johnston's  "Audrey,"  and  now  is  known  altogether  as 
"Audrey's  House."  Though  its  paneled  walls  are  interesting,  the 
stories  of  its  spirit  world  are  more  so,  and  the  tragic  words  etched 
upon  one  of  the  old  window  panes  quickens  both  pulse  and  fancy 
as  does  nothing  else  in  all  Williamsburg.  Firmly  outlined  upon 
the  glass  are  the  words,  "1796 — Nov.  23 — Ah,  fatal  day!"  The 
story  the  few  words  tell  must  have  been  one  of  sorrow,  of  heartache 
and  of  love. 

The  prim  walk  up  to  the  house  on  one  side  begins  under  old 

[22] 


The    James    River    Plantation     Belt 

locust  and  pecan  trees,  and  is  box  hedged  all  of  its  length.  Honey- 
suckle riots  over  the  fence.  Crepe  myrtles  and  altheas  grow  on  the 
lawn,  and  lilac  bushes,  with  age  written  upon  them  in  moss,  show 
even  now  where  the  garden  once  was.  And,  gentle  reminder  of  this 
sweet  plot,  the  lily  of  the  valley  has  massed  so  densely  and  spread 
so  far  afield  that  now  it  is  securely  naturalized. 

Diagonally  across  from  the  church  is  the  hospitable  building 
where  Judge  St.  George  Tucker  lived  about  1779,  and  this,  for- 
tunately, is  still  in  the  possession  of  the  same  family.  The  old 
house  was  also  the  childhood  home  of  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke, 
and  its  charming  old  garden  is  still  preserved  much  as  it  was  when 
the  little  descendant  of  Pocahontas  played  in  it.  The  flagstone  walk 
and  grassy  falls  are  gay  in  spring  with  many  violet  blooms  and  a 
wealth  of  old-fashioned  bulbs.  The  lilac  bushes  are  as  sweet  as 
ever;  the  syringa  or  mock  orange  still  bears  gold-chaliced  cups, 
while  the  Rose  of  Sharon  and  spiraea  speak  eloquently  of  the  garden 
of  yesterday.  Roses  in  quantity  and  of  many  colors  enliven  the 
garden  in  June,  and  pink  and  white  crepe  myrtles  lend  their  crisp 
freshness  for  a  glory  of  midsummer  bloom.  When  autumn  comes, 
quantities  of  yellow  fall  crocus — crocus  speciosus — remind  one  of 
jonquils  next  year.  The  following  verses,  "In  a  Garden  of  Dreams," 
by  Elizabeth  Eggleston,  were  inspired  by  what  is  now  known  as 
the  Coleman  garden: 

There's  a  garden  of  dreams  where  the  crepe  myrtle  swings, 

And  the  roses  are  white  in  the  gloaming; 
Where  the  hush  of  old  beauty  lies  heavy  and  sweet, 

Scarce  stirred  by  the  winds  that  are  roaming. 

There  a  tiny  swing  hangs  from  a  gnarled  old  tree, 

There  the  larkspur's  a  blue-petaled  glory; 
There  the  grey  flagstones  lead  through  a  way  that  is  dim, 

Like  a  thread  to  the  heart  of  a  story. 

There  time  holds  its  breath,  there  shrubs  grow  to  trees, 

There  beauty  grows  old  in  its  questing; 
And  the  garden  dreams  on  in  its  fragrance-hung  calm 

Where  even  the  shadows  are  resting. 

[23] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Immediately  next  door,  the  original  Coleman  house  will  be 
found,  in  the  midst  of  a  charming  old  garden.  Here,  still  more 
yellow  crocus  bloom  in  the  fall,  and  narcissi  and  squills  rise  each 
spring  upon  each  terrace. 

Around  the  Garrett  house  on  Capitol  Street  grow  many 
old-fashioned  shrubs — crepe  myrtle,  spiraea  and  mock  orange. 
Bulbs,  too,  are  here  in  plenty;  the  grape  hyacinth's  blue,  and  the 
daffodil's  gold,  painting  a  gay  picture  each  spring.  But  the  queen 
of  this  garden  is  the  red  amaryllis,  which  opens  its  petals  in  the  fall. 

Within  a  stone's  throw  is  the  home  of  Dr.  Peachy,  who  played 
host  to  General  LaFayette  during  the  Revolution.  Later,  in  1824, 
when  the  Marquis  was  touring  America,  he  was  given  a  banquet 
at  this  same  house  when  he  visited  Williamsburg.  Stop  for  a  bit — 
wander  back  over  the  years  and  gaze  at  the  company  who  welcomed 
him.  See  the  multitude  of  Virginia  people  thronging  the  highway, 
the  doorways  and  roofs  of  near-by  dwellings;  the  soldiers  in  their 
peace-time  uniforms;  stately  Governor  Pleasants  on  his  prancing 
horse.  Another  moment — watch  the  crowd  fall  back.  Grand  old 
LaFayette,  the  hero  of  the  hour,  steps  out  upon  the  balcony — the 
multitude  cheers — the  General  bows.  When  all  this  comes  before 
one's  mind  it  is  easy  to  forget  today. 

The  same  bulb  flowers  bloom  about  this  colonial  house  as  are 
found  all  over  Williamsburg,  but  a  new  note  is  struck  when  we  see 
the  anemone.  Saint  Brigid's  kind,  in  a  frail,  petaled  dress  when 
it  blooms. 

At  the  east  end  of  Francis  Street,  where  there  once  was  a  beau- 
tiful old  garden,  stands  the  home  of  Burwell  Bassett,  friend  and 
many  times  host  of  Washington.  Bassett  Hall,  as  the  place  is 
called,  was  later  the  town  house  of  President  John  Tyler,  and 
here,  it  is  said,  Tom  Moore  wrote  "The  Firefly,"  fresh  from  a 
visit  to  the  great  Dismal  Swamp.  The  broad  lawn,  now  cut  by  a 
long  entrance  lane,  was  once  the  scene  of  cavalry  drills,  but  the  only 
reminder  of  those  stirring  days  is  now  found  in  the  old-fashioned 
flowers.     Violets,  blue  hyacinths  and  daffodils  of  many  kinds — the 

[24] 


Home  of  George  Wythe,  W  here  the  Once  Beautiful  Garden  May  be  Trncal 


H 

▼" 

3| 

BH 

|feii 

M 

n 

m 

■m, 

'•■   l!li!ilil   "III 

p>  iiiiiijiiiliiiii 

.    '  ' 

The  Peachy  Home,  from  the  Balcony  of   W  hich   LaFayette  Spoke   in   1824 


The  Tucker  House,  W  here  John  Randolph  oj  Roanoke  Lived  as  a  Boy 


Tazeivell  Hall,  Home  of  Sir  John  Randolph 


From  an  DM  1 


Maycox,  on  James  River,  Site  of  the  First  Attempt  at 
Horticulture    in    America 


d 

11 

'm. 

till 

fflB*^^    ' 

""  i 

-.      >->.'.;r^-^  .-^  --iM^^B 

Carter's   Grove,   on   Lower  James,   Where   a   Terraced   Garden   Once    Led 
Down  to  the  River 


mta —  ■  iStKf 

The    James    River    Plantation     Belt 

phoenix,  the  golden  spur  and  Lady  of  Leeds  in  proper  succession. 
No  one  knows  just  who  it  was  who  planted  the  multi-great-grand- 
parents of  this  present  wealth  of  jonquils  which  mantle  Bassett 
Hall  in  a  robe  of  gold  in  April  as  year  follows  year. 

So  profligate  have  they  become  in  number,  so  far-spreading 
have  they  gone,  that  the  right  has  been  given  the  Williamsburg 
Civic  League  to  take  from  them  enough  bulbs  to  naturalize  on  the 
esplanade  which  extends  along  Duke  of  Gloucester  Street. 

Along  the  path  which  leads  from  the  lane  to  the  house,  a  chain 
of  cowslips  links  the  present  to  the  past,  and  fragrant  lilies  stand 
together  like  angels  in  a  dream.  Bassett  Hall  is,  in  truth,  the 
envied  possessor  of  what  many  of  us  dream  of,  but  few  fortunate? 
possess — "a  lily  avenue  climbing  to  the  doors." 

Adjoining  this  lawn  is  the  former  home  of  Peyton  Randolph, 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Burgesses  and  President  of  the  Con- 
tinental Congress.  The  acreage  here  has  dwindled  with  the  years 
and  the  garden  has  given  way  to  modern  needs  of  a  town,  but  the 
same  staunch  bulbs  return  season  after  season.  And  in  August, 
when  the  grass  is  brown  and  the  leaves  are  withering,  masses  of 
tiny  purple  lilies  hold  up  their  crowns  in  loyalty  to  the  first  master 
of  the  home. 

Just  across  the  street  is  the  Gault  house,  built  just  when,  and  by 
whom,  no  one  knows,  but  rich  in  its  historic  lore  and  legend. 

At  the  Thompson  house,  on  Nicholson  Street,  Patrick  Henry 
lived  when  he  practiced  law  in  Williamsburg.  One  of  its  tiny 
attic  windows,  the  outlook  from  which  is  now  so  restful,  was  once 
the  scene  of  frenzied  watching  against  Indian  depredations.  There 
is,  perhaps,  more  of  a  formal  garden  at  this  particular  place  than 
anywhere  else  in  the  little  town.  Box  clumps  are  scattered  here 
and  there  among  lilacs  and  snowballs  and  the  early  flowering  shrub 
yellow  jessamine.  Violets  and  narcissi;  iris  and  jonquils;  lilies — 
the  pure  Madonna  and  the  tigerish  Jamestown  lily.  The  yellow 
Rose  of  Texas,  known  better  as  the  Harrisonii,  blooms  above  beds 
of  bloodroot  and  hepatica  brought  from  the  woodland  beyond. 

[25] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

The  hardy  bulbs,  known  to  our  grandmothers  as  butter  and 
eggs,  poet's  narcissi  and  squills,  are  found  in  places  where  no  house 
has  stood  for  a  century,  loyal  mementoes  of  cottage  and  farmstead 
leveled  as  progress  marched  into  the  town. 

As  a  last  word — let  me  beg  you — when  the  cares  of  a  restless 
existence  are  burdening  too  heavily  the  broad,  though  pessimistic, 
shoulders  of  today — throw  them  aside  for  a  glimpse  into  Eden,  and 
go  to  old  Williamsburg  when  the  daffodils  that  carpet  each  lawn 
and  garden  are  bursting  into  the  season's  bloom,  and  the  birds 
which  share  the  old  churchyard  with  the  country's  most  illustrious 
dead  are  caroling  the  joy  of  living.  Go  where  each  flower  face 
will  tell  you  of  the  making  of  history,  then  dream  in  the  sunshine 
of  that  romantic  age.  And  when  you  leave  the  appealing  little  town 
you  may  repeat  to  yourself  the  words  of  one  who  has  studied  its 
past,  played  a  part  in  its  present  and  appreciated  its  beauties  as  can 
only  those  who  call  this  little  city  home. 

"Intangible,  but  real ;  invisible,  but  ever  present,  the  spirit  of  the 
days  of  long  ago  haunts  and  hallows  the  ancient  city  and  the  homes 
of  its  honored  dead;  a  spirit  that  stirs  the  memory  and  fires  the 
imagination;  a  spirit  that  will,  we  trust,  illumine  the  judgment  of 
those  who  have  entered  upon  the  rich  Inheritance  of  the  past  and 
lead  them  to  guard  these  ancient  landmarks  and  resist  the  spirit 
of  ruthless  innovation  which  threatens  to  rob  the  city  of  its  unique 
distinction  and  Its  charm." 

Edith  Dabney  Tunis  Sale. 


[26] 


CLAREMONT   MANOR 


HE  Claremont  plantation,  situated  in  Surry  County, 
on  the  south  side  of  the  James  River,  about  half 
way  between  Richmond  and  Norfolk,  was  bestowed 
upon  Arthur  Allen  as  an  original  grant  from  Eng- 
land. 

The  romantic  legend,  told  along  the  river,  is 
that  two  brothers,  Allen  and  Eric  Guelph,  princes  of  the  house  of 
Hanover,  were  rivals  for  the  love  of  a  high-born  English  lady. 
Eric  was  successful  in  his  suit,  but  on  his  wedding  night  was  fatally 
stabbed  by  his  brother,  Arthur,  who  then  fled  from  England. 
Taking  refuge  in  America,  he  is  said  to  have  changed  his  name 
to  Arthur  Allen,  in  which  name  he  held  the  large  grant  of  land 
given  him  in  1649.  Upon  this  plantation,  a  few  years  later,  he 
built  the  house  known  as  Claremont  Manor,  which  today  is  an 
excellent  example  of  the  best  architecture  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
Built  of  bricks,  said  to  have  been  brought  from  the  mother 
country,  this  old  house  combines,  as  do  other  homes  of  the  early 
Colonial  period,  the  deep  English  basement  and  spacious  high- 
ceiled  rooms  of  the  first  floor,  with  the  quaint  dormer  windows  and 
high-pitched  roof  of  the  second  story.  As  the  colonial  workmen 
were  wont  to  build  on  the  line  of  a  letter  of  the  alphabet,  these 
three  stories,  each,  conform  to  the  shape  of  the  letter  "T." 

The  house  is  said  to  be  an  exact  replica  of  Claremont  Manor 
in  Surrey  County,  England,  which,  during  a  long  period,  was  a 
favorite  royal  residence.  It  was  the  property,  at  one  time,  of  Lord 
Clive,  then  of  Princess  Charlotte  and  her  husband,  Leopold  the 
First,  King  of  the  Belgians.  It  was  the  home,  also,  of  the  Duke  of 
Kent,  the  father  of  Queen  Victoria. 

Claremont-on-the-James  is  massively  and  strategically  built.  It 
has  its  brick-walled  underground  passage  to  the  river,  which  was 

[27] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

used  in  Indian  days.  It  also  has  its  secret  room,  the  entrance  to 
which  was  discovered  during  the  War  Between  the  States  by  a 
party  of  Federal  soldiers.  In  this  room  the  soldiers  found  a  score 
or  more  half-gallon  bottles  of  old  brandy.  To  this  day,  one 
of  these  curious  old  decanters  remains  intact,  and  is  highly  prized 
by  a  family  of  Petersburg,  Virginia.  Cut  deeply  into  the  bottle 
is  the  name  of  William  Allen,  and  the  year  1753. 

Each  President  of  the  United  States  prior  to  the  time  of  the  War 
Between  the  States  is  said  to  have  been  a  guest  at  the  old  Allen 
house,  and  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  whom  tradition  claims  as  a  frequent 
visitor,  is  believed  to  have  found  inspiration  for  some  of  his  beauti- 
ful poems  while  wandering  in  the  historic  gardens  of  old  Claremont. 
The  Manor  stands  in  a  park  of  ten  acres,  where  one  sees  an 
intermingling  of  beauty  and  age.  The  lofty  and  aged  oaks,  the 
glorious  crepe  myrtles,  and  the  wide  spreading  boxwood  hedges 
testify  to  a  growth  of  centuries.  The  driveway  approach  to  the 
old  home,  after  passing  between  the  huge,  moss-covered  gate  piers, 
swings  around  in  curve  after  curve  in  a  friendly  way.  Converging 
from  this  driveway  are  the  avenues  of  lindens  and  cedars. 

Beauty  in  the  park  and  its  gardens  was  a  tradition.  Among 
the  members  of  the  Allen  family,  who  continued  to  interest  them- 
selves in  adding  to  the  attractiveness  of  the  grounds,  were  Arthur 
Allen,  who,  in  1688,  became  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Burgesses; 
Colonel  William  Allen,  who,  one  hundred  years  later,  was  a  member 
of  the  convention  of  1788;  and  his  son.  Colonel  William  Allen, 
Junior,  who  was  a  colonel  in  the  War  of  18 12.  Generation  after 
generation,  during  two  centuries  and  a  quarter,  continued  the  work 
thus  early  begun.  Rare  trees  from  foreign  countries  were  later 
brought  to  Claremont.  Today  artistic  groupings  are  seen,  and 
charming  color  schemes  changing  with  the  seasons,  but  everywhere 
there  is  a  quiet  dignity  and  a  gentle  elegance. 

The  river  approach  to  this  old  Queen  Anne  dwelling  is  by  way 
of  a  wide  avenue  of  linden  trees,  which  extends  from  the  river 
terrace  to  the  driveway  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  terrace  upon  which 

[28] 


GROUNDS    AND  GARDE-M   of=- 

CLAREMONT     MANOR 


Meredith  Johiistt 


The  Little  Garden  at  Claremont 


Entrance   to   the   "Old   Mansion"   at   Claremont 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 


the  great  double  row  of  boxwood  hedge,  with  shelled  walk  between, 
completes  the  approach  to  the  steps  of  the  mansion. 

On  each  side  of  this  box  walk  are  the  rose  gardens,  dotted  and 
shaded  with  groups  of  shrubs  and  nature-planted  trees.  There  are 
many  varieties  of  roses — perpetuals,  teas,  simple  old-fashioned 
bushes,  the  blossoms  of  every  shade  of  pink,  salmon  and  crimson 
and  pure  white,  the  rich  odors  of  which,  mingling  with  that  of  the 
box,  lend  an  indescribable  charm. 

Contrasting  with  the  age  and  dignity  of  the  box  walk  and 
its  rose  gardens,  is  the  warmly  companionable  little  garden  on  the 
west  side  of  the  mansion,  offspring  of  an  ancient  one.  Here  a 
fern-bordered,  rose-covered  pergola,  surrounded  by  tall  privet  with 
under-borders  of  heliotrope,  snapdragon,  sweet  william,  bachelor's 
button  and  phlox,  is  enclosed  by  the  walls  of  colonial  outbuildings. 
Within  the  privacy  of  this  small  garden  a  figured  fountain  plays, 
and  an  ancient  sun-dial  lends  charm. 

There  is  one  mood,  one  picture  in  which  the  physiognomy  of 
the  gardens  of  Claremont  may  be  ideally  contemplated.  That  is 
when  the  twilight  falls  and  you  walk  under  the  magnolias  on  the 
terrace,  through  the  rose-gardens  and  down  the  great  avenue  of 
lindens  to  the  space  where  the  crepe  myrtles  bank  their  layers  of 
rich,  heavy  shadow.  Behind  these  rise  twin  birches  in  virgin  white 
and  frail  translucent  green  and  just  beyond  a  giant  pecan  thrusts 
up  boldly  against  the  wide  expanse  of  river. 

Between  mimosa  trees  may  be  had  a  glimpse  of  the  flowering 
almond  hedge  and  ivy-covered  summer-house.  Then,  let  your  eye 
follow  the  avenue  of  cedars,  checkered  with  shadow,  into  the  old 
garden  through  the  gate  of  the  cedars.  Here,  white,  oval-shaped 
stones  light  up  the  half-hidden  parterres  that  still  bear  a  tangle  of 
fern,  honeysuckle,  lilies,  hollyhocks,  peonies  and  other  old-fashioned 
blooms.  On  through  the  faintly  fragrant  paths  in  a  half-circle,  until 
the  lichen-covered  summer-house  that  crowns  the  great  bluff  of  the 
river,  and  stands  like  a  period  at  the  end  of  the  dim  lines,  is  reached. 
Close  in  here  are  columnar  aisles  of  mock-orange  standing  like  a 

[29] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

row  of  pawns  upon  a  chess-board.  Bisecting  with  every  shade 
of  green,  from  blackest  fir  to  brightest  emerald,  the  great  cucumber 
trees,  English  walnuts,  chestnuts,  hickories  and  slender  gingkos, 
stand  in  close  array. 

Meredith  Armistead  Johnston. 


[303 


TEDINGTON 

ANDY  POINT,  or  Tedlngton,  named  for  the 
English  village  on  the  Thames,  is  one  of  the 
most  fertile  of  the  many  famous  plantations  lying 
along  the  banks  of  the  lower  James  River.  The 
place  was  originally  known  as  the  Indian  town  of 
Paspahegh.  In  1700,  when  it  became  the  property 
of  Captain  Phillip  Lightfoot,  the  first  of  the  name  in  Virginia,  it 
contained  about  five  thousand  acres.  Captain  Lightfoot  was  a 
man  of  prominence  and  wealth  in  his  day,  a  member  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Virginia,  a  lieutenant-colonel  and  justice  of  the  peace. 
Beneath  an  armorial  tomb  he  now  sleeps  in  the  family  burying- 
ground  at  Tedington. 

For  many  generations  the  estate  remained  in  the  Lightfoot 
family  and,  according  to  old  chronicles,  they  lived  there  in  "great 
splendor."  They  drove  a  coach-and-four  and  dispensed  royal 
hospitality  to  friends  and  relatives.  The  old  house  was  built  in  the 
year  about  17 17,  and  is  a  fine  type  of  the  frame  dwellings  of  that 
period.  It  contains  ten  rooms,  with  a  high  pillared  front  porch, 
and  stands  about  forty  yards  from  the  river  in  a  beautiful  shaded 
lawn  that  slopes  gradually  to  the  low,  sandy  beach. 

The  interior  of  the  dwelling  is  very  attractive.  Most  of  the 
rooms  are  large  and  high  pitched  with  wainscoated  walls.  A  huge 
chimney,  which  is  nine  feet  thick  and  solid  brick,  runs  through  the 
center  of  the  house. 

The  flower  garden  and  borders  at  Tedington  are  noted  for 
their  beauty.  The  old  box-hedge,  on  the  north  side  of  the  garden, 
is  at  least  twenty  feet  high. 

Though  the  original  lines  of  a  formal  garden  have  been  oblit- 
erated by  time,  quantities  of  shrubbery  and  tangles  of  roses  still 
charm  the  visitor  to  the  historical  spot.    The  chief  interest  of  this 

[31] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 


garden,  however,  centers  about  the  tree-box,  which  in  quantity  and 
quahty,  ranks  with  the  finest  in  the  south. 

When  the  grounds  for  the  Jamestown  Exposition  were  being 
laid  off,  in  1906,  the  owner  of  Tedington  was  offered  four  thousand 
dollars  for  the  boxwood,  but  the  trees  had  fastened  their  hold  on 
their  latter-day  master,  and  the  offer  was  declined.  Today  these 
trees  and  lines  of  boxwood  rear  their  heads  as  proudly  as  of  yore. 

The  widow  of  William  Howell  Lightfoot  married  John  Minge, 
Esquire,  and  their  daughter,  Sarah  Melville,  married  Robert 
Boiling,  of  Petersburg,  Virginia. 

An  interesting  description  of  a  Christmas  at  Tedington,  by 
Charles  Campbell,  the  Virginia  historian,  presents  to  the  reader 
of  today  a  vivid  picture  of  the  season  of  gifts  on  an  old  James 
River  plantation  in  ante-bellum  days.  The  letter  is  dated  Teding- 
ton, Christmas,  1841,  and  reads,  in  part,  as  follows: 

"Rainy  Sunday.  In  the  drawing-room  at  Tedington,  three 
sisters,  descendants  of  Pocahontas  [evidently  the  Misses  Boiling], 
Alice,  Virginia  and  Rosalina;  Miranda  from  an  Italian  city  famous 
for  its  pictures  and  palaces.  Five  darkies  put  off  in  a  rowboat  to 
meet  the  river  boat.  Ten  more  ladies  join  the  party,  afterwards 
breakfast. 

"Breakfast:  Buttermilk  rolls,  Sally  Lund,  hominy.  Prenala 
and  Miranda  ride  with  two  gentlemen,  Farrel  and  Racket.  Ground 
half  frozen.  The  cows  stand  close  together  in  cowpen,  stoically 
chewing  their  cuds;  several  little  mules  are  huddled  up  in  their 
shed  eating  their  fodder;  flocks  of  wild  geese  are  flying  over  the 
broad  wheat  fields,  reiterating  their  'cohonk,'  'cohonk,'  as  they 
disappear  from  sight.  Later,  the  ladies  are  firing  'poppees,'  in  the 
dining-room. 

"Dinner:  Ham  of  bacon — in  Virginia,  sine  qua  non.  With- 
out it  we  cannot  organize  or  take  any  parliamentary  action.  Ham 
of  mutton  (Napoleon's  favorite),  a  venison  with  jelly,  oysters 
(Back  River),  stewed  and  baked,  a  huge  round  of  beef,  potatoes, 
Hibernians   and   sweet,    salsify,    hominy,   celery,    and   cauliflower. 


[32] 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 

For  dessert,  pound  cake,  mince  pie,  lemon  pudding,  raspberry  puffs, 
jelly,  amber-colored  and  purple  with  sylabubs,  blanc  mange,  one 
couleur  de  rose,  like  the  light  of  Aurora's  cheek,  the  other  typical 
of  innocence  and  in  Russia  of  morning,  snow  white.  Champagne, 
sparkling  like  wit,  in  cranelike  glasses.  A  contemplative  mind 
will  observe  light,  volatile  particles  ascending  with  accelerative 
velocity.  Ambitious,  evanescent  aspirants,  they  hasten  to  the  top 
only  to  expire.  Madeira  and  Malaga  also  revolve  in  their  proper 
orbits;  cloth  removed. 

"Third  course :  Apples,  red  and  green — the  red  grow  at 
Tedington.  Almonds,  raisins,  olives  (de  gustibus  non  dis- 
putandum),  sweetmeats,  brandy  peaches,  and  cheese  (old  English). 

"The  sun  now  sinking  in  the  west,  it  grows  dim  crepuscular; 
candles  are  lit,  healths  drunk,  easy  slipshod  dialogues,  an  occasional 
cross-fire  of  puns  and  concerts,  'a  moment  there  and  gone  forever,' 
interspersed  with  diagonal  glances  across  the  table,  a  sweet,  sur- 
reptitious meeting  of  the  eyes." 

A  pretty  picture  of  those  good  old  days ! 

In  1852,  Tedington  again  changed  hands,  becoming  the  prop- 
erty of  Colonel  Richard  Baylor,  of  Essex  County.  About  this  time 
the  plantation  was  considered  one  of  the  very  finest  on  James  River, 
and  contained  about  its  original  five  thousand  acres  of  land  with 
a  river  front  of  nearly  three  miles.  Hundreds  of  slaves  tilled  the 
broad,  fertile  fields.  It  is  said  that  during  harvest  nearly  three 
hundred  men  would  be  at  work  in  the  wheat  fields.  A  hundred 
or  more  dusky  "cradlers"  cut  a  swath  of  yellow,  heavy-headed, 
breast-high  wheat.  A  binder  followed  each  "cradler,"  gathering 
up  the  wheat  into  sheaves,  a  crowd  of  young  darkies  stacked  the 
wheat,  and  were  followed  by  a  long  line  of  the  older  men 
(shockers)  who  gathered  the  heavy,  golden  sheaves,  and  built  them 
into  substantial  shocks,  in  straight  lines  across  the  fields.  The  over- 
seer rode  along,  giving  orders,  or  speaking  words  of  encourage- 
ment to  the  harvest  gang.  The  plantation  owner  was  on  horse- 
back or  in  the  carriage,  perhaps,  with  some  visitor  or,  maybe,  some 

[33] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

ladies  of  the  household,  looking  on  at  the  animated  scene.     These 
were  familiar  sights  at  Tedington  during  the  old-time  harvests. 

Today  all  of  this  is  changed.  Almost  every  one  of  the  former 
slaves  have  passed  into  the  great  beyond,  and  Tedington  has  been 
divided  up  to  consist  of  five  farms  of  one  thousand  acres  each. 
In  the  harvest  fields  the  metallic  click  of  the  reaper  is  heard  instead 
of  the  swish  of  the  old-time  cradles.  But  many  of  the  older  in- 
habitants around  the  neighborhood  recall  the  days  when  the  former 
owners  of  Tedington  lived  like  kings. 

At  that  time  the  walls  of  the  old  house  were  decorated  with 
portraits  painted  by  English  masters;  the  polished  dining-room 
table  shone  with  silver  and  cut  glass;  the  great  wheat  crop  was 
loaded  aboard  vessels  by  means  of  an  elevator,  said  to  be  the  first 
in  the  country,  and  the  owners  of  the  old  plantation  ruled  a  little 
principality. 

J.  M.  Bell. 


[34] 


BRANDON 


HE  garden  of  gardens  in  Virginia  is  that  of  Lower 
Brandon,  situated  on  the  broad  waters  of  the 
James  River.  One  can  hardly  put  into  words  the 
beauty  of  a  garden  so  saturated  with  intangible 
charm.  It  has  no  rare  blossoms,  nor  shrubs 
brought  from  foreign  lands,  no  delicately-planned 
parterres  so  loved  by  our  English  grandmothers,  but  just  the  same 
old-fashioned  flowers  we  have  known  from  childhood.  We  meet 
them  again  at  Brandon  in  such  health  and  wealth  of  beauty,  and 
such  dignity  of  surroundings,  that  it  is  hard  to  believe  the  feeble 
attempts  in  our  own  gardens  belong  to  the  same  family. 

The  Brandon  garden  is  not  merely  one  enclosure,  where  we 
may  enter  through  a  gate  and,  when  we  have  closed  it,  feel  a 
delightful  sense  of  seclusion.  No,  it  is  different  from  any  other 
garden  in  Virginia.  The  masses  of  blossom,  the  ample  grounds, 
the  greens,  the  groves,  and  the  wide  spread  of  the  peaceful  James, 
are  so  closely  blended  with  the  house,  the  home  and  the  people, 
that  there  is  a  unique  charm  of  landscape  and  atmosphere  mellowed 
through  eight  generations.  If  you  want  to  let  your  imagination 
run  hand  in  hand  with  poetry  and  romance;  if  you  want  to  skip 
and  dance  and  make  merry  with  childhood,  laugh  with  youth,  medi- 
tate with  the  wise,  and  dream  with  sweet,  placid  old  age,  then  go 
to  Lower  Brandon,  and  stroll  at  sunset  down  the  long  grass  walk 
that  leads  to  the  river. 

Brandon  was  first  called  Martin's  Brandon,  as  it  was  granted 
to  John  Martin,  who  came  over  from  England  with  John  Smith. 
John  Martin  was  a  member  of  His  Majesty's  first  Council  in  Vir- 
ginia. In  1635  it  was  granted  to  John  Sadler  and  Richard  Quiney, 
merchants,  and  William  Barbour,  mariner.     Richard  Quiney  mar- 

[35] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

ried  Judith,  the  daughter  of  William  Shakespeare.  He  left  his 
share  of  the  property  to  his  great-nephew,  Robert  Richardson,  who 
sold  it,  in  1720,  to  Nathaniel  Harrison  (i 677-1 727),  of  Wake- 
field, Surry  County. 

Brandon  was  next  inherited  by  Nathaniel  Harrison  II,  and 
the  present  house,  or  its  original  part,  was  built  by  him  in  1735, 
and  subsequently  grew,  with  its  various  generations  and  needs,  until 
it  spread  its  wings  almost  across  the  lawn.  Some  of  the  most 
distinguished  Virginians  were  born  within  its  walls,  and  many  more 
have  been  sheltered  under  its  hospitable  roof. 

A  wide  space  of  open  green  is  left  just  in  front  of  the  door, 
and  from  the  steps  of  the  porch  there  stretches  a  double  line  of  box 
across  the  front  of  the  house  on  both  sides.  The  double  line  con- 
tinues down  each  side  of  the  front  grounds  for  about  four  hundred 
feet,  where  it  joins  enormous  bowers  and  hedges  of  lilac  which 
lead  out  from  the  main  grounds  to  more  secluded  arbors  and 
garden  houses.  These  ancient  box-hedges  have  grown  far  past  all 
expectations  of  the  original  planter,  and  have  assumed  queer  shapes, 
gnarled  and  twisted,  each  more  beautiful  than  the  other,  and  they 
have  furnished  days  of  endless  pleasure  for  the  many  little  children 
who  have  played  "house"  on  the  velvety  brown  carpet  under  their 
soft  green  boughs.  The  grass  walk,  about  fifteen  feet  in  width, 
leads  down  to  the  river,  the  vista  of  which  is  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful on  the  James. 

It  is  wild  and  wide,  and  takes  one  back  to  the  days  when  the 
Indians  fled  in  their  canoes  from  the  white  settlers.  Though 
Jamestown  was  a  thriving  settlement,  with  a  House  of  Burgesses 
in  session  in  16 19,  the  Indians  still  held  for  themselves  the  kingdom 
of  James  River.     We   feel  this  historic  fact  at  Brandon  today. 

On  either  side  of  the  garden  walk  from  the  open  green  to  the 
river,  a  distance  of  some  two  hundred  yards,  there  is  a  continuation 
of  fine  old  specimens  of  spiraea,  syringa,  weigela,  calycanthus,  crepe 
myrtle,  forsythia,  japonica,  lilac,  corchrous,  or  rock  rose,  and  snow- 

[36] 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 


ball,  known  to  our  grandmothers  as  guelder  rose.  There  are  open- 
ings at  intervals,  on  both  sides,  leading  into  various  kinds  of  rose 
gardens,  and  perennial  borders,  also  large  squares  of  iris,  lilies,  and 
every  variety  of  spring  bulb. 

The  narrow  walks,  which  lead  in  and  out  of  the  small  gardens, 
are  edged  with  little  yellow  primroses  or  cowslips  and  sweet  violets, 
both  white  and  blue.  There  are  evidences  still  left  of  great  hedges 
of  fig  and  dogwood;  but  the  latter  being  short-lived,  it  is  hard  to 
determine  just  when  and  how  they  were  planted.  The  enormous 
grove  on  the  land  front  of  the  house  is  as  rich  with  magnificent  trees 
as  the  river  front.  Tulip  poplars,  oaks,  lindens,  ash,  sycamores, 
junipers  and  a  pecan  tree  that  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  finest  in 
the  world. 

My  first  visit  to  Brandon  is  a  beautiful  memory.  It  was  in 
May,  1902.  We  had  been  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Jamestown  and 
stopped  at  Brandon  just  after  a  thunderstorm.  It  was  in  the  late 
afternoon,  and  a  great  burst  of  golden  sunlight  had  just  come  out 
of  the  grey  clouds  and  touched  every  glistening  raindrop  on  every 
blade  of  grass,  while  the  dripping  foliage  was  made  golden  against 
the  solemn  black  trunks  of  the  trees. 

There  seemed  to  be  hundreds  of  wood  robins,  mocking  birds  and 
cardinals  singing  their  fullest  notes  for  that  last  bit  of  day.  I 
followed  many  of  the  little  cowslip  paths  that  led  me  into  masses 
of  roses  in  full  bloom;  Marechal  Neil,  damask,  and  every  variety 
of  tea  rose,  each  holding  the  raindrops.  Enormous  wild  grape- 
vines festooned  some  of  the  trees,  and  they,  too,  were  in  full  bloom, 
all  filling  the  air  with  a  wonderful  fragrance,  added  to  that  deli- 
cious scent  of  box,  so  essential  to  old  gardens.  Many  of  the  borders 
were  heavily  shaded,  and  in  these  columbines,  forget-me-nots  and 
bleeding  heart  were  blooming. 

The  charm  of  that  garden  will  live  always;  and  one  who  is 
fortunate  enough  to  visit  Brandon  in  May  will  feel  an  awakening 
of  all  the  poetic  in  his  soul.  Almost  unconsciously  he  will  repeat 
the  old  childhood's  rhyme: 

[37] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

"What  care  we  though  life  be  short, 
We'll  dream  a  fine  dream,  and  think  a  fine  thought. 
We'd  grow  fine  feathers,  sing  fine  songs,  too, 
If  we  lived  in  a  garden  as  the  cardinals  do." 

A  certain  romantic  incident  is  a  matter  of  history  at  Brandon. 
There  hangs  closely  tied  in  one  of  the  chandeliers  in  the  drawing- 
room,  a  small  gold  wedding  ring. 

Each  generation  seems  to  have  known  and  reverenced  the  ring; 
but  no  one  knows  when  or  why  it  was  hung  there.  Whether  some 
bride  had  cast  it  off  because  of  the  secret  love  in  her  heart  for 
another,  or  whether  it  was  the  dying  request  of  some  dear  old 
grandmother,  who  wished  to  leave  the  sign  of  her  happy  union  in 
the  room  where  she  was  married,  is  still  a  mystery  at  Brandon. 

Every  old  place  has  at  least  one  particular  ghost;  and  here  it 
may  be  the  bride  who  returns  to  guard  her  wedding  ring  and 
wish  a  blessing  on  her  descendants.  We'll  call  her  the  patron  saint 
of  brides;  and  I  feel  sure  that  this  little  saint  draped  in  the  silver- 
white  robes  of  moonlight,  with  a  wedding  veil  of  mist,  still  fre- 
quents some  of  the  enchanted  paths  in  the  garden  at  Brandon. 

Caroline  Coleman  Duke. 


138 


m 

^^^■l,^/;;|-.--|j^^l 

1             ^ 

1^  ■ '        /'  '^■^^'' 

1* 

Lila  L.  Williams 


UPPER   BRANDON 

PPER  BRANDON,  so  called  In  contradistinction  to 
the  older  plantation  of  which  it  was  once  a  part, 
lies  also  on  the  south  side  of  James  River.  The 
three  miles  of  roadway  leading  to  It  from  Brandon, 
family  seat  of  the  Harrisons,  is  very  lovely,  wind- 
ing at  times  along  the  brink  of  the  river,  and  again 
through  woodland  dense  in  shade  and  greenery. 

Although  several  generations  junior  to  its  venerable  sisters, 
Brandon,  Shirley  and  Westover,  a  hundred  years  have  come  and 
gone  since  the  spacious  foundations  for  the  house  at  Upper  Brandon 
were  laid  on  the  fertile  slope,  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  back 
from  the  river. 

Built  by  William  Byrd  Harrison,  son  of  Benjamin  Harrison, 
of  Brandon,  its  general  plan  is  somewhat  like  that  of  the  older 
place,  though  the  lines  are  a  trifle  more  massive,  and  the  wings 
have  two  stories.  The  situation  of  the  dwelling  commands  one 
of  the  best  river  sites,  and  the  park  which  surrounds  it  Is  heavily 
shaded  by  many  trees.  Conspicuous  among  the  latter  are  the  wil- 
low oaks,  which  have  made  such  prodigious  growth  that  now  they 
rear  their  tall  tops  above  the  highest  gables.  Still  other  trees  upon 
the  lawn  are  beech,  poplar  and  magnolia. 

Box  lines  the  walks  leading  from  the  front  of  the  house  to  the 
old  terraced  garden,  where  they  end  in  a  serpentine,  now  somewhat 
difficult  to  trace.  This  design,  the  only  one  of  the  kind  In  Amer- 
ica, is  said  to  be  one  of  the  oldest  and  rarest  to  be  found  in 
England.  Within  many  of  its  sinuous  curves  jonquils  and  grape 
hyacinths  are  naturalized,  giving  in  spring  an  effect  both  beautiful 
and  interesting.  This  dwarf  boxwood  found  a  genial  home  in  the 
soil  of  Upper  Brandon  and,  during  the  past  centuries,  has  made 
such  notable  growth  that  now  It  Is  the  glory  of  the  place. 

The  garden  Itself,  which  suffered  greatly  from  1862  to  1865, 

[39] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

has  never  been  completely  restored,  though  many  old  shrubs  were 
left  to  define  certain  spots — japonica,  althea,  lilac,  and  syringa. 
Not  In  any  special  or  ordered  form,  but  scattered  about  the  lawn 
and  garden  are  roses — new  and  old.  Boxwood  and  roses — that  is 
what  one  remembers  from  a  June  visit  to  Upper  Brandon  today. 
An  old  poem,  written  about  the  two  Brandons,  gives  an  idea  of 
what  this  garden  was  many  years  ago: 
A  oarden  full  of  roses — 

Red,  yellow,  white  and  pink, 
And  many  other  posies 

Grow  near  the  river's  brink. 
Along  the  walks  are  cowslips 

Of  many  colors  bright, 
Some  red  as  a  young  maid's  lips, 

Some  full  of  yellow  light ; 
The   daffodils  and  jonquils. 

The  box  and  the  snowballs 
The  hyacinth  the  air  fills 

With  perfume  which  enthralls ; 
There  are   some   dear  old  flowers 

In  this  quaint  garden  spot, 
And  rose  leaves  fall  in  showers 
Whene'er  the  wind  blows  hot. 

Like  many  another  stately  Virginia  home.  Upper  Brandon  had 
Its  part  to  play  in  history.  During  the  War  Between  the  States 
four  of  its  stalwart  sons  crossed  its  fair  threshold  to  battle  for 
their  State  and  country.  One  of  these  now  sleeps  forever  on  the 
field  of  Malvern  Hill. 

Federal  troops  made  their  home  from  time  to  time  in  the  old 
house  during  this  period.  Today  all  that  is  left  to  recall  those 
stirring  days  are  the  sabre  cuts  In  the  old  balustrade  and  the  liberal 
sprinkling  of  bullet  holes  In  the  paneled  walls. 

After  the  death  of  William  Byrd  Harrison,  Upper  Brandon 
became  the  property  of  George  Harrison  Byrd,  whose  son, 
Francis  Otway  Byrd,  now  makes  it  his  home. 

F.  Otway  Byrd. 

[40] 


WEYANOKE 


HE  estate  of  Weyanoke,  the  name  of  which  was 
borrowed  from  the  Indians,  lies  on  the  north  shore 
of  James  River  and  is  mentioned  in  history  as  early 
as  1607,  When  John  Smith  and  Christopher  New- 
port made  their  adventurous  voyage  up  the  James, 
they  found  seated  here  the  Weyanoke  Indians. 
This  tribe,  though  in  reality  under  Powhatan,  was  nominally 
governed  by  a  queen  to  whom  the  early  colonists  often  referred  as 
the  "Queen  of  the  Wayanokes."  Unfortunately,  no  other  name 
seems  to  have  been  bestowed  upon  her. 

When  Sir  George  Yeardley  was  Governor  of  the  Colony  of 
Virginia,  he  acquired  an  estate  at  this  point,  but  this  he  sold  later 
to  Abraham  Piersey.  ToAvards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
the  place  passed  into  the  possession  of  the  Harwood  family. 
Though  there  had  been  an  earlier  house  on  the  property,  in  1740 
William  Harwood  built  the  present  large  frame  house  at  Weyanoke. 
Some  years  later  the  estate  was  inherited  by  the  daughter  of 
Samuel  Harwood,  who  married  Fielding  Lewis  of  Warner  Hall, 
Gloucester  County,  Virginia.  The  portrait  of  the  latter  now  hangs 
in  the  Virginia  State  Library  as  that  of  an  early  scientific  planter. 
Through  the  marriage  of  a  daughter  to  Robert  Douthat  that  part 
of  the  plantation  known  as  Lower  Weyanoke  became  the  property 
of  the  family  who  own  it  today. 

In  1854,  Mary  Willis  Marshall,  granddaughter  of  the  Chief 
Justice,  a  slip  of  a  girl,  came  to  Upper  Weyanoke  as  the  bride  of 
Fielding  Lewis  Douthat  and  there  began  with  her  husband's  assist- 
ance the  making  of  a  garden. 

Near  by  is  Lower  Weyanoke,  where  the  mother-in-law  lived  and 
where  flourished  what  was  said  to  be  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
gardens  in  Virginia.  The  mistress  of  the  older  place  gladly  gave 
to  her  young  daughter  and  son  from  her  overflowing  garden  all 

[4.] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

that  they  needed  in  the  way  of  plants  and  shrubs.  Her  knowledge 
and  experience  which  was  lovingly  given  to  the  young  couple  was 
of  great  value  and  a  very  extensive  garden  was  laid  out. 

Broad  alleys  were  laid  off  to  run  between  borders  of  flowers 
and  shrubs.  These  alleys  or  walks  ran  lengthwise  and  across  the 
garden  with  plots  of  vegetables  between. 

After  the  War  Between  the  States  the  changed  conditions  and 
a  different  mode  of  cultivation  made  it  necessary  to  do  away  with 
the  cross-walks  and  borders  in  order  that  the  cultivators  could 
have  room  to  move  more  freely  in  working  the  vegetables. 

As  the  garden  now  is  one  sees  a  long  walk  fifteen  feet  wide 
bordered  on  each  side  with  evergreen  shrubs  and  all  the  old  garden 
favorites.  In  February  begins  the  season  of  bloom,  with  the  long 
succession  of  daffodils  and  narcissi;  next  comes  the  breath  of  spring 
and  winter  heliotrope,  which  mingles  with  the  old  world  fragrance 
of  bloom  and  boxwood  as  do  also  the  cowslips  edging  the  borders. 

The  gate  of  the  entrance  is  covered  with  yellow  jessamine  or, 
as  it  is  called  in  England,  woodbine.  Surely  dull  care  is  driven 
away  when  spring  comes  upon  the  James  and  our  many  beautiful 
birds  begin  nesting  in  the  old  gardens.  One's  senses  are  bewildered 
trying  to  tell  from  which  comes  that  divine  scent — calycanthus, 
lilac,  jessamine,  or  what  not — when  it  is  a  combination  of  all. 

In  the  midst  of  this  calm  beauty  came  the  horrors  of  war. 
To  Weyanoke  marched  a  part  of  Sheridan's  army  after  a  recent 
defeat  at  Cold  Harbor.  We  can  imagine  the  weary  and  wounded 
soldiers  who  found  rest  in  this  garden.  Under  a  rose  bush  the 
young  mistress  found  one  who  had  there  given  up  his  life  and  gone, 
we  hope,  to  where  flowers  bloom  eternally. 

In  the  years  that  have  passed  since  then  changes  have  come 
not  only  in  material  things.  For  in  this  garden  where  once  all 
the  bitter  feelings  called  forth  by  war  held  sway,  here  come  many 
charming  and  cultured  friends  from  that  one-time  land  of  the 
enemy,  and  beneath  the  shade  cast  by  the  old  shrubs  here  have 
partaken  of  tea.  Catherine  Douthat. 

[42] 


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Ztn   PFrOf//B-^ 


GAEDEN     AT 

FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED 


FLOWER   DE   HUNDRED 

N  Tindall's  "Charter  of  Virginia"  (a  map  pre- 
served In  the  British  Museum),  under  date  of  1608, 
we  find  the  clear  outline  of  what  was  to  become 
Flower  de  Hundred  plantation,  with  the  Indian 
village  of  Wynagh,  or  Weyanoke,  Indicated  on  its 
bold  cape-like  projection  into  James  River.  Here 
General  Grant  landed  his  forces  from  his  pontoon  bridge  on  his 
way  to  Petersburg  on  a  then  far-off,  undreamed-of  day. 

The  place  was  patented  by  Sir  George  Yeardley,  1618,  and 
named — as  we  now  know — for  his  wife's  family,  Flowerdew.  This 
fact  was  early  lost  sight  of.  Certainly,  by  1671  the  name  was 
written  Flower  de  Hundred,  and  something  in  the  corruption  In 
the  spelling  has  attracted  Interest  and  piqued  curiosity  until  now, 
I  Imagine,  the  maiden  name  of  Lady  Temperance  Flowerdew  will 
never  come  Into  its  own.  She,  by  the  way,  later  became  the  wife 
of  Governor  West,  and  moves,  a  stately  figure,  in  several  records  of 
her  day  and  times. 

In  1 6 19,  Flower  de  Hundred  was  represented  In  the  first  As- 
sembly by  Lady  Yeardley's  nephew  and  John  Jefferson.  The 
place  was  sold  to  Abraham  Pelrsey  In  1624,  and  the  deed,  said  to 
be  the  oldest  In  North  America,  mentions  the  "windmill  and  the 
messuages."  We  know  from  a  State  paper  that  the  windmill, 
which  gives  Its  name  to  the  Point,  was  built  in  1621,  and  that  It 
was  the  first  In  the  country.  Now  the  word  "messuages"  includes 
the  Idea  of  a  homestead,  "house,  outbuildings,  yard,  garden,  etc.," 
but  these  were,  no  doubt,  down  by  the  windmill  where,  tradition 
has  it,  that  a  brick  house  was  long  since  burned — so  regretful  we 
admit  to  ourselves  that  the  garden  of  today  Is  probably  not  the 
garden  of  my  lady  Temperance. 

Pelrsey  left  the  plantation  to  his  daughter,  Elizabeth  Stevens, 

[43] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

and  we  have  the  old  paper  of  1636,  in  which  It  is  repatented  to 
her  by  Governor  John  West.  She  later  became  Lady  Harvey. 
Its  next  owner  was  the  picturesque  William  Barker,  mariner,  who 
sailed  the  seas  in  the  Merchant's  Hope,  and  was  one  of  a  company 
to  found  the  old  plantation,  courthouse  and  church  of  that  name, 
along  with  one  Quiney,  whose  brother,  Thomas,  married  Judith 
Shakespeare — not  uninteresting  are  these  links  with  Old  England. 

Barker's  descendants  divided  the  land  into  three  parts,  and 
one  of  these  corresponds  to  the  site  of  the  present  house.  It  was 
described  in  1673  as  the  share  falling  to  his  daughter,  Sarah 
Lucy,  'Svith  houseing,  fenceing,  buildings  and  all  other  profits, 
vantages  and  priveledges  whatsoever  to  the  same  belonging" — 
surely  this  includes  a  garden! 

Joshua  Poythress  I  bought  Flower  de  Hundred  In  1725  and 
1732  from  the  various  heirs  of  John  Taylor,  and  it  is  still  the 
property  of  his  direct  descendants  of  the  seventh  and  eighth  genera- 
tions, that  part  on  which  the  house  and  garden  stand  being  owned 
by  Dr.  William  WIUcox  Dunn,  of  Richmond,  Virginia. 

The  Poythress  house  is  thought  to  have  been  on  a  bluff  near 
the  river,  close  to  the  burying  ground.  Certain  It  is,  that  here 
one  still  finds  old  brick  and  clumps  of  blue  flags  and  traces  of  other 
garden  flowers.  This  brick  house  was  burned  and  its  site  aban- 
doned. Susannah. Peachy  Poythress,  only  daughter  and  sole  heiress 
of  Joshua  Poythress  III,  was  born  at  Flower  de  Hundred  in 
1785  and  was  buried  there  in  18 15.  She  married  John  Vaughan 
WIllcox,  of  Charles  City  County  and  Petersburg,  in  1894,  at  which 
time  they  built  the  present  house — a  white  wooden  structure — on 
a  rolling  bit  of  ground,  back  from  the  river  and,  as  has  been  said, 
doubtless  already  an  old  site  and  homestead. 

It  was  never  their  home,  but  was  often  visited;  the  plantation 
was  under  full  cultivation,  and  she  must  have  known  and  loved 
the  present  garden.  Later,  her  son  came  to  live  here  and  added 
wings  to  either  end  of  the  house.  His  children,  in  turn,  built  other 
wings.     His  wife  was  the  moving  spirit  in  making  the  garden  a 

[44] 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 

glory  and  a  joy  to  her  generation,  and  it  is  as  she  maintained  it 
that  I  shall  try  to  describe  it  now.  If  not,  strictly  speaking,  a 
colonial  garden,  it  at  least  preserves  an  old-world  air — a  sense 
of  rest  and  permanence  pervades  its  scented  walks,  in  spite  of 
present  neglect  and  almost  abandonment. 

The  house  stands  in  a  large  yard — hardly  a  lawn — where 
magnificent  trees  have  within  the  last  few  years  gone  down  before 
successive  storms.  A  large  box  circle,  four  or  five  feet  high,  oc- 
cupied the  center.  Formal  beds  of  tulips  were  dotted  here  and 
there,  while  a  border  of  peonies  lined  the  fence.  A  walk  passed 
the  front  porch  and  led  to  the  rose  arbour  which  sheltered  the 
garden  gate,  and  four  box-trees  guarded  this  walk — only  one  of 
which  survives.  The  garden  covered  a  large  area,  some  of  which 
was  later  taken  into  the  orchard,  leaving  about  an  acre  and  a  half 
in  flowers,  vegetables  and  small  fruits.  A  plan  accompanies  this 
description.  Center,  a  magnolia  tree.  Around  this,  a  circular 
box-hedge,  and  in  the  space  between,  lilies  of  the  valley.  Inter- 
secting walks — wide  enough  for  a  cart  to  drive  along — that  ferti- 
lizers might  the  better  be  handled  and  spread — passed  through 
the  garden,  with  flower  borders  on  either  hand.  These  borders 
also  ran  along  walks  following  the  line  of  fence.  In  the  center  of 
each  square  were  vegetables,  strawberries  or  ornamental  fruit  and 
nut-trees.  Trellises  held  grapes,  and  there  were  two  rose-covered 
arbours.  At  intervals  rosebushes  stood,  and  still  stand,  for  that 
matter,  seven  and  eight  feet  tall,  a  riot  of  bloom  in  May  and  early 
June.  In  the  autumn  they  bloom  again  with  surpassing  beauty. 
Huge  syringas  stand  at  the  angles,  with  spiraea  and  calycanthus. 
The  borders  were  edged  with  violets  and  spice-pinks.  Back  of 
these  are  remembered  among  other  plants  snowdrops,  tulips,  butter- 
and-eggs,  hyacinths,  night  shade,  lavender,  bay,  Poet's  laurel, 
Madonna  lilies,  yellow  day  lilies,  citronella,  star-jessamine  and 
peonies.  Behind  these,  lilacs,  pyrus  japonica,  golden  honeysuckle, 
flowering  almond  and,  always,  roses,  and  again — roses. 

Formal   scarlet   geraniums  came   out  of   their  cold-frames    at 

[45] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

proper  times  and  made  a  glory  of  color  in  their  appointed  beds, 
back  of  one  of  the  grape  trellises.  Three  gardeners  were  kept 
busy  ordering  all  this  beauty.  The  soil  is  of  a  wonderful  richness 
and  the  English  bulbs — a  sturdy  stock  surely — come  up  year  after 
year.  One  can  still  fill  the  house  with  bloom  at  most  seasons, 
and  in  its  decay  the  old  garden  has  not  forgotten  to  be  lovely. 

N.  P.  Dunn. 


[46] 


WESTOVER 


IKE  an  exquisite  emerald  clasp  upon  the  golden, 
chain-like  river,  lies  the  green  lawn  of  Westover. 
Upward  from  the  winding  James  the  sward, 
studded  with  great,  gnarled  tulip-poplars,  sweeps 
smoothly  to  the  stately  and  magnificent  old  home- 
stead of  the  Byrds.  Nearly  two  hundred  years 
ago  some  of  these  trees  are  said  to  have  been  planted,  and  now 
they  stand  like  giant  guards  upon  the  ancient  lawn.  On  each  side 
brick  walls  descend  to  the  edge  of  the  river  bank. 

Westover  goes  back  almost  to  the  beginning  of  the  English  in 
America.  In  the  year  1688,  WiUiam  Byrd,  the  first  of  his  name  in 
Virginia,  who  had  come  with  his  young  wife,  Mary,  to  the  Colony 
in  1674,  and  settled  at  the  falls  of  the  James,  purchased  the 
plantation  from  Theodorick  Bland.  About  1735  his  son,  the  second 
William  Byrd,  built  the  beautiful  home,  which  still  stands,  sur- 
rounded by  the  lovely  emerald  lawn,  the  flag-pathed  courtyard,  and 
the  gracious  old  garden  in  which  his  dust  reposes. 

The  house,  of  red  brick  mellowed  to  a  warm  old-rose,  without 
porch  or  ornament,  is  considered  one  of  the  most  perfect  examples 
of  Georgian  architecture  in  America.  It  has  a  high,  steep  roof,  set 
with  dormer  windows  and  flanked  by  lofty  chimneys.  Before  the 
door  gray-stone  steps  rise  in  a  pyramid  to  a  beautiful  doorway, 
which  many  a  builder  has  copied. 

The  main  entrance  to  the  grounds  is  upon  the  side  opposite  the 
river  and  is  through  wonderful  gates  of  wrought-iron,  which  often 
have  been  described.  Nowhere  in  America,  unless  it  is  in  ancient 
and  historic  Charleston,  which  has  so  many  lovely  gateways,  is  there 
a  finer  example  of  the  iron-master's  art — a  double  grill,  ten  feet 
high,  surmounted  by  the  monogram  of  William  Evelyn  Byrd,  and 
swung  between  two  massive,  square  brick  pillars  which  bear  leaden 

[47] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

eagles  with  wings  spread  proudly  as  if  for  Bight.  It  is  a  curious 
thought  to  recall  that  these  eagles,  symbols  of  our  country,  were  set 
there  long  before  our  country  was  even  a  dream.  PVom  this  great 
gate  a  graceful  iron  fence  slopes  to  each  side,  divided  into  sections 
by  square  pillars,  each  capped  with  a  different  emblem  of  stone. 

Here,  in  the  wilderness,  Byrd  set  a  bit  of  England.  It  was  in 
the  English  blood  to  make  and  to  love  a  garden.  Even  now,  this 
overgrown  old  garden,  with  its  formal  box-hedged  squares  and  old- 
fashioned  flowers,  reminds  one  of  the  lanes  and  hedge-rows  of 
England.  The  sweet-smelling  box  recalls  the  old  fragrance  of  for- 
gotten memories — rosemary  and  rue — lace  laid  away  in  lavender — 
the  spicy  scent  of  sandalwood. 

Quaint  sweet  williams  bloom  in  company  with  the  pale  forget- 
me-not;  foxgloves,  purple  and  white,  grow  beside  iris,  white  and 
purple;  clove-pinks,  the  progenitors  of  all  our  regal  carnations,  vie 
with  peonies,  shaded  like  the  inside  of  a  flushed  shell;  lilies  of 
serene  and  virginal  white  look  chastely  upon  their  gaudy,  flaunting 
cousins,  tiger-striped  and  voluptuous;  timid  violets  peep  out  from 
beneath  bold  hollyhocks;  and  everywhere  are  roses,  some  of  which, 
the  legend  says,  will  bloom  in  no  other  ground. 

Flowering  shrubs  are  there — the  modest  bridal  wreath  spirea, 
syringa,  or  mock-orange.  Crepe-myrtle  bushes  grown  almost  into 
trees  and  calycanthus  with  deep  red-brown  flowers  verging  upon 
purple.  In  this  rich,  moist  soil  the  vines  have  grown  with  almost 
tropic  luxuriance.  Rambler  roses  and  trumpet  vines  riot  through 
and  over  the  old  hedges,  which,  untrimmed  in  spots,  have  grown 
into  tree-like  proportions,  and  wistaria  has  woven  and  twisted  itself 
into  tangled  thickets  of  verdure,  which  in  season  are  masses  of 
purple  bloom. 

But  the  greatest  charm  of  this  rare  old  garden  lies  neither  in 
the  sweet  box-hedges,  the  beautiful  beds  of  old-time  flowers,  the 
graceful  shrubbery,  nor  the  clambering  vines.  Nor  in  the  count- 
less birds  that  make  the  enclosure  melodious  with  their  song.  It 
is    found    in    the    thoughts,    redolent    with    romance,    that    this 

[48] 


The    James    River     Plantation     Belt 


sequestered  spot  recalls.  What  a  procession  has  passed  through 
the  Westover  garden!  The  visitor  who  loves  to  dwell  upon  the 
past  may  close  his  eyes  and  see  pass  before  him  all  that  has  gone 
to  make  Virginia  picturesque  and  great. 

There  stands  the  tomb  of  William  Byrd  the  second,  who  was 
called  "The  Black  Swan."  His  epitaph  upon  the  stone  informs 
us  that,  not  only  born  to  ample  fortune,  he  was  of  brilliant  mind, 
courageous  spirit,  and  kindly  disposition.  It  is  related  of  him 
that  he  was  handsome,  graceful  and  fascinating;  educated  and 
traveled;  the  most  elegant  of  gentlemen  and  the  best  of  good 
fellows.  In  him  the  most  solid  qualities  of  mind  and  character 
were  united  to  all  the  courtly  graces  and  accomplishments  of  his 
time. 

How  delightful  to  picture  William  Byrd  and  his  companions  as 
they  strolled  through  this  garden  two  centuries  ago!  Courtly  and 
sophisticated  gentlemen  they  were,  in  brilliant  coats  and  flowing 
ruffles  and  satin  small-clothes.  How  the  sun  must  have  flashed  from 
their  silver  buckles  and  their  golden  sword-hilts  as,  in  leisurely 
fashion,  they  offered  each  other  their  jeweled  snuff-boxes!  With 
what  stately  courtesy  they  addressed  the  beauties  who,  with 
powdered  hair  and  fans  and  patches,  in  gowns  of  flowered  silk, 
walked  with  them  here  when  the  garden  was  young! 

These  gravelled  paths  must  have  known,  too,  the  soft  tread  of 
the  moccasined  Indian,  bronzed  and  painted,  stern  of  face  and 
guttural  of  tongue. 

Then  would  come  the  runners  of  the  woods,  the  hardy  frontiers- 
men (pressing  ever  westward  up  the  river  In  canoes),  swarthy  as 
the  Indians,  fur-capped,  shirted  In  fringed  leather,  their  flint-lock 
rifles  on  their  knees,  alert  and  keen  eyed,  grateful  for  a  moment's 
rest  and  the  hospitality  of  Westover. 

William  Byrd  the  third,  an  officer  In  the  Colonial  troops,  must 
have  passed  through  those  gates  in  his  scarlet  regimentals,  gold- 
laced,  well-horsed,  his  sabre  by  his  side,  on  his  way  to  the  French 
and  Indian  wars.     And  up  to  these  same  gates  rolled  the  lordly 

[49] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Byrd  coach-and-six  with  the  liveried  outriders,  when  the  Colonel 
and  his  ladies  would  go  a-visiting  to  Shirley  or  Brandon  or  to 
Buckland. 

Then  came  the  Revolution.  Burgesses  from  Williamsburg  and 
the  first  men  of  the  colony,  perhaps,  sat  on  those  benches  and 
through  the  smoke  of  their  long-stemmed  clay  pipes  discussed  the 
peril  of  the  times.  Officers  of  the  Continental  line,  in  buff  and 
blue,  strode  the  paths  in  shining  jack-boots,  or  made  love  beneath 
the  arbors  to  the  beautiful  Byrd  girls. 

Westover  knew  Red  Coats  again,  too,  for  Arnold,  the  renegade, 
stopped  there  in  178 1,  and  a  few  months  later  Cornwallis  crossed 
the  river  there,  bound  for  Yorktown  and  his  doom. 

To  the  gay  French  officers  who  took  part  in  that  siege,  the  fair 
chatelaine  of  Westover  and  her  beautiful  daughters  were  magnets, 
and  their  bright  uniforms  must  have  made  even  the  roses  pale. 
The  Marquis  de  Chastellux  claimed  in  his  memoirs  that  Westover 
was  the  most  beautiful  place  in  America. 

The  clouds  of  war  passed  and  the  only  scarlet  coats  seen  at 
Westover  were  those  of  fox  hunters.  Quiet  fell  again  upon  the 
garden,  and  how  pleasant  it  is  to  recall  the  children  who  romped 
along  the  paths  in  charge  of  their  old  negro  mammies  !  The  garden 
rang  with  laughter  and  there  was  no  thought  of  the  darker  days 
that  were  yet  to  come. 

Westover  was  no  longer  in  the  wilderness.  The  Indians  had 
vanished;  the  river  had  become  a  highway  of  commerce.  Broad 
fields  around  smiled  with  rich  crops  and  in  the  garden  all  was 
peace  and  happiness. 

Yet  war  was  to  come  again  and  in  more  frightful  guise.  Mc-. 
Clellan,  on  his  retreat  from  Richmond,  used  the  house  for  his 
headquarters,  and  the  garden  resounded  to  the  clatter  of  arms. 
The  fences  were  torn  down,  the  flower  beds  trampled,  the  hedge- 
rows broken;  but  McClellan  passed,  as  Arnold  and  Cornwallis  and 
the  Indians  had  passed,  and  the  garden  remained  to  spring  into 
new  beauty. 

[50] 


The    James    River     Plantation     Belt 

Among  all  these  pictures  of  memory,  the  one  that  most  affects 
the  tender  heart  is  the  vision  of  lovely  Evelyn  Byrd,  the  eldest 
daughter  of  the  second  William,  whose  gentle  spirit  seems  to  haunt 
the  garden  yet.  Her  charm  and  beauty  captivated  not  only  the 
colony,  but  England;  at  eighteen  she  was  presented  at  court  and 
became  the  toast  of  the  nobility.  Tradition  tells  that  she  was  wooed 
and  won  by  Charles  Mordaunt,  Lord  Peterborough,  but  her  father 
broke  off  the  match  and  brought  her  home  to  pine  and  die. 

One  thinks  of  her  in  slender,  slowly-fading  loveliness,  wander- 
ing through  the  box-bordered  paths  in  her  flowered  gown  and  high- 
heeled  silken  shoes,  and  wonders  if  her  thoughts  were  those  that 
Amy  Lowell  has  so  poignantly  expressed  in  "Patterns" : 

"I  walk  down  the  garden  paths 
And  all  the  daffodils 
Are  blowing,  and  the  bright  blue  squills. 
I  walk  down  the  garden  paths 
In  my  stiff  brocaded  gown. 
With  my  powdered  hair  and  jeweled  fan 
I,  too,  am  a  rare  pattern.     As  I  wander  down 
The  garden  paths. 
My  dress  is  richly  figured 
And  my  train 

Makes  a  pink  and  silver  stain 
On  the  gravel  and  the  thrift 
Of  the  borders. 

Just  a  plate  of  current  fashion, 
Tripping  by  in  high-heeled,  ribboned  shoes, 
Not  a  softness  anywhere  about  me. 
Only  whalebone  and  brocade. 
And  I  sink  on  a  seat  in  the  shade 
Of  a  lime  tree.     For  my  passion 
Wars  against  the  stiff  brocade. 
The  daffodils  and  squills 
Flutter  in  the  breeze 
As  they  please 
And  I  weep 

So  the  beautiful  Evelyn  must  have  thought,  one  can  fancy,  as 

[51] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

she  walked  in  her  fading  beauty  and  her  elegant  apparel,  and 
wept,  until  she  died. 

Not  far  from  the  house  the  ashes  of  the  beautiful  Evelyn 
Byrd  lie,  near  those  of  her  grandfather,  William  Byrd  the  first, 
in  the  yard  of  old  Westover  Church,  which,  if  we  may  liken  West- 
over  itself  to  an  emerald  clasp  upon  the  necklace  of  the  golden 
James,  we  might  call  a  pendant. 

The  first  Westover  Church,  which  was  built  in  the  early  part 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  stood  on  the  shore  of  the  river,  still 
nearer  Westover.  The  present  church,  which  was  erected  about 
1740,  is  somewhat  back  from  the  James,  upon  Herring  Creek,  a 
lazy,  brown  stream,  bordered  near  the  river  by  marshes,  which 
give  way  to  banks  crowned  with  pines  and  cedars,  sycamore,  holly, 
and  beech  trees. 

It  Is  a  plain,  low,  rectangular  structure  of  red  brick,  dwarfed 
by  the  great  trees  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  The  little  church  has 
passed  through  many  vicissitudes.  For  many  years  the  Byrds 
worshipped  there,  but  early  in  the  nineteenth  century,  when  the 
Byrds  had  passed  away  and  the  Episcopal  Church  suffered  its  great 
depression  in  Virginia,  its  sacred  offices  were  almost  forgotten  and 
it  was  used  as  a  barn.  Later  still,  during  the  War  Between  the 
States  the  graveyard  wall  was  thrown  down,  the  tombs  broken,  and 
McClellan's  troopers  stabled  their  horses  within  the  venerable  walls 
of  the  edifice. 

After  the  war,  the  building  was  restored  by  James  Hamlin 
Willcox,  and  is  now  again  used  as  a  church. 

A  gentleman  relates  that,  as  a  boy,  his  negro  mammy  carried 
him  to  service  in  this  church.  On  weekdays  he  was  allowed  to  go 
barefoot,  but  on  Sundays  his  reluctant  feet  were  forced  into  shoes. 
Safely  ensconced  in  the  pew,  he  would  slyly  wiggle  his  feet  out  of 
confinement  and  then  wriggle  his  toes  in  the  sand  between  the  stone 
slabs  of  the  floor.  Through  the  old  diamond-paned  windows  he 
would  watch  the  bees  clustering  upon  the  roses  that  clambered 
about  the  embrasure,  and,  at  last,  to  their  drowsy  hum,  that  blended 

[52] 


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The    James    River     Plantation     Belt 


with  the  monotone  of  the  minister,  he  would  drift  away  upon  the 
wings  of  sleep. 

In  this  old  church,  as  in  the  garden,  one's  thoughts  go  back 
into  the  storied  past  and  recall  the  days  when  the  great  land- 
owners worshipped  there.  Some  rolled  up  in  great  six-horsed 
coaches  with  servants  and  outriders;  others  came  from  up  and 
down  the  river  in  pirogue  or  pinnace  or  sloop;  the  more  humble 
yeomen  rode  up  on  horseback,  their  dames  upon  pillions  behind. 
The  plain  little  church  must  have  been  gay  with  bright  silks  and 
satins,  plumed  headgear  and  jeweled  fans,  brilliantly-flowered 
waistcoats  and  pompous  wigs. 

Many  of  the  old  gentry  sleep  under  the  mouldering  slabs  in  the 
graveyard.  The  earliest  date  is  that  of  1637,  i^i  which  year  the 
first  church  was  erected.  The  tomb  of  Evelyn  Byrd  is  kept  from 
disintegration  by  iron  bands.  Yet  the  church  yard  is  no  place  of 
gloom ;  it  is  more  like  a  garden  than  a  cemetery. 

All  that  man  could  select,  all  that  Nature  can  give,  has  con- 
tributed to  make  the  Westover  garden  a  bower  of  fragrant  beauty. 
But  it  is  neither  the  flowers,  nor  the  trees,  nor  the  shrubs  that 
most  touch  the  heart  which  is  tuned  to  ancient  memories.  To  dream 
of  these,  there  is  no  more  fitting  place,  where,  as  the  old  verse,  so 
often  used  on  sun-dials  in  England,  has  it: 

"With  the  song  of  the  birds  for  pardon, 
And  the  joy  of  the  flowers  for  mirth, 
One  is  nearer  God's  heart  in  a  garden 
Than  anywhere  else  on  earth !" 

Sherrard  Willcox  Pollard. 


[53] 


APPOMATTOX 

ROM  Richmond,  crossing  the  James  through  old 
Manchester,  we  follow  the  Petersburg  Turnpike 
on  our  way  to  Appomattox.  The  soldiers  of  all 
our  armies  have  trod  this  road  and  fought  for  a 
stand  on  nearly  every  foot  of  ground  between 
Petersburg  and  Richmond;  for  this  part  of  Vir- 
ginia has  been  rightly  called  "the  spanking  spot"  of  the  nation. 
At  beautiful  Falling  Creek,  In  Chesterfield  County,  we  come  to 
the  site  of  the  first  Iron  works  In  America,  established  by  John 
Berkeley  in  1619  and  abandoned  In  1622  when  the  Indians  fell 
upon  and  massacred  Berkeley  and  all  his  men. 

During  the  Revolutionary  War  the  British  Red  Coats  traveled 
on  this  pike,  and  Tarleton  with  his  troopers  destroyed  the  iron 
works  completely;  but  the  falls  over  the  dam  and  the  double-arched 
stone  bridge  still  remain  to  make  a  charming  scene.  To  the  left 
of  the  bridge  Is  the  entrance  to  Ampthlll,  the  home  of  the  Cary's, 
built  in  1732.  From  the  site  of  the  fornial  garden,  which  once 
graced  this  hilltop,  a  broad  view  of  the  lowlands  and  a  command- 
ing prospect  of  the  river  may  be  had.  Washington  and  the  famous 
men  and  women  of  his  day  enjoyed  frequently  the  hospitality  of 
this  charming  Colonial  home. 

A  little  farther  on  at  Kingsland  Creek  may  be  seen  remains  of 
the  old  fort  built  during  the  War  Between  the  States  to  guard  the 
road  to  Richmond.  Mule  teams  and  dusky  drivers  are  today 
robbing  both  fort  and  hillside  of  gravel  to  mend  the  scars  on  the 
old  roadway.  The  Tavern,  or  "Halfway  House,"  at  Proctor's 
Creek,  claims  to  have  refreshed  the  great  Generals  Washington 
and  LaFayette  on  their  march  up  this  road,  and  one  would  have 
to  pause  but  a  few  moments  to  have  the  cheery  present  owner  tell 
cf  the  hundreds  of  watermelons  and  cantaloupes  he  hospitably  dis- 

[54] 


The    James    River    Plantation     Belt 

pensed  from  his  "gyarden"  to  the  khaki  boys  of  Camp  Lee  as  they 
came  and  went  over  the  pike  while  training  for  overseas  service. 

Just  before  Petersburg  is  a  stone  marker  put  up  by  the 
Daughters  of  the  Confederacy.  This  marks  the  headquarters  of 
General  Robert  E.  Lee  from  June  to  September,  1864,  at  Violet 
Banks,  the  old  estate  of  John  Shore.  The  plantation  has  gone 
and  a  modern  subdivision  has  taken  its  place,  but  a  quaint  facade 
of  the  interesting  old  house  still  remains,  the  rear  portion  of  sixteen 
rooms  having  been  shot  away.  It  will  well  repay  the  tourist  to 
detour  a  bit  and  see  the  remains  of  the  house  and  the  beautiful 
trees  which  enframe  it. 

John  Shore,  it  is  said,  had  a  passion  for  all  ornamental  plants. 
He  used  shrubs  and  flowering  trees  in  great  variety  for  the  em- 
bellishment of  his  grounds.  Years  after,  the  grounds  and  garden 
supplied  family  and  friends  with  specimens  for  ornamenting  their 
new  driveways  and  gardens  in  many  parts  of  Virginia — flowering 
locusts,  mimosa,  horse-chestnut,  hawthorns,  crepe-myrtle,  magnolias 
(grandiflora,  glauca,  acuminata),  acacia  (yellow,  pink  and  white), 
and  every  variety  of  fruit  tree  then  obtainable.  Two  torch-like 
hollys  stand  on  either  side  of  the  house. 

It  is  said  that  a  suitor  came  a  courting  one  of  the  Mistresses 
Shore;  from  far  away  he  came  on  horseback  with  a  switch  from 
a  tree  in  his  hand  as  a  whip.  This  switch  he  stuck  in  the  ground 
and  it  grew  and  grew  into  a  tremendous  magnolia  acuminata. 
Under  its  spreading  branches  General  Lee  had  his  tent,  and  a  little 
child  brought  him  each  day  baskets  of  fresh  vegetables  from  her 
mother's  garden.  She  remembers  yet  his  lifting  her  in  his  arms 
to  gather  one  of  the  pale  yellow  blossoms  of  this  great  tree. 

Following  a  road,  still  flanked  with  marvelous  old  oaks,  down 
the  hillside  and  around  the  river  banks  studded  in  spring  with 
millions  of  violets,  we  cross  the  Pocahontas  bridge,  which  leads  over 
the  Appomattox  to  Petersburg.  We  go  through  the  town  to  Camp 
Lee,  now  silent,  shabby  and  dilapidated,  but  so  recently  the  scene 
of  bugle  calls  and  intense  activity;  thence  to  Hopewell,  the  city  of 

[55] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

paper  houses  and  war  munitions,  now  transformed  to  stable  peace- 
time industries;  to  City  Point,  whose  newly-laid-off  streets  and 
building  lots  for  World  War  developments  were  acquired  from  the 
acreage  of  the  Eppes  Farm.  Turning  into  a  picturesque  avenue 
of  century-old  cedars,  and  passing  old  St.  John's  Church  whose 
steeple  was  used  as  a  signal  tower  in  wartime,  and  on  through  the 
splendid  trees  which  surround  it,  we  catch  our  first  glimpse  of 
Appomattox  Manor.  Just  beyond  sparkle  the  waters  of  the  James 
and  the  Appomattox.  We  are  at  once  reminded  that  the  first  of  the 
family  of  Eppes  approached  this  matchless  site  for  a  home  from 
the  water,  travelling  by  boat  or  canoe  on  the  river,  the  natural 
highway  in  those  early  roadless  days. 

Seals  attached  to  old  deeds  in  possession  of  the  late  Dr.  Richard 
Eppes  of  City  Point  bore  the  arms  ascribed  by  English  heraldic 
writers  to  Epes  or  Eppes  of  Canterbury,  Kent,  England.  The 
records  of  Prince  George  County  which  would  have  thrown  most 
light  on  this  family  history  were  burned  by  Federal  Troops  during 
the  War  Between  the  States,  and  but  few  family  letters  and  other 
personal  records  survive  the  burning  and  sacking  of  two  great  wars. 

Of  this  we  are  assured:  the  family  embarked  from  "Merrie 
England"  not  as  men  in  political  disfavor  and  threatened  with  dis- 
aster, nor  yet  as  cavaliers  with  dreams  of  fame  and  fortune,  but 
as  colonists  and  settlers  to  found  a  home  in  a  new  world  of  peaceful 
employment  and  productive  enterprise,  to  till  the  soil  and  plant 
and  reap. 

To  Francis  Eppes,  a  member  of  His  Majesty's  Council,  was 
granted  in  1635  broad  acres  of  land,  which  included  estates  on  both 
sides  of  the  James  and  the  Appomattox,  and  an  island  laved  by 
the  waters  of  both  rivers,  called  "Eppes'  Island,"  still  owned  by 
the  family. 

On  a  most  beautiful  and  commanding  eminence,  jutting  out 
into  a  broad  expanse  of  water  at  the  confluence  of  the  two  rivers, 
Francis  Eppes  built  his  frame  dwelling.  The  place  is  still  the  home 
of  his  descendants,  and  represents  a  tenure  of  nearly  three  hundred 

[56] 


iii:CK    \>.-A.LL 


m^ttdrntmifif^t'^i^ 


m09im^0m0kmfmi 


APPOMATTOX     BlVf-R. 


The    James    River    Plantation     Belt 

years.  He  sent  back  to  Jamestown  for  his  slaves,  and  direct 
descendants  of  these  same  servants  are  in  the  employ  of  the  Eppes 
family  to  this  day — a  circumstance  exceedingly  rare  in  the  annals 
of  any  American  family. 

The  first  house,  which  stood  nearer  the  river,  was  torn  down 
and  the  present  one  built  from  the  materials  of  the  original  In  175 1. 
This  second  dwelling  was  set  on  fire  by  the  British  during  the 
Revolution,  but  the  fire  was  fortunately  put  out  by  faithful  slaves. 
There  is  a  feeling  of  home  and  contentment  In  the  cozy  charm  of 
the  quaint,  low,  rambling  frame  building,  with  its  dormer  windows 
and  many  broad  porches.  Its  latticed  columns  are  hugged  by 
climbing  roses — William  Allen  Richardson,  Douglas,  Lady  Ashton, 
Banksia,  Marie  Henriette,  Dr.  Van  Fleet  and  other  modern  intro- 
ductions which  replace  the  old-time  festoons  of  Virgins'  Bower 
(Clematis  Virginiana). 

The  house  is  pierced  with  bullet  holes,  and  without  doubt  a 
more  lordly  mansion  of  brick  and  stone  would  have  fallen  before 
the  onslaughts  of  musket  and  cannon.  During  the  War  Between 
the  States  the  place  was  used  as  a  hospital,  and  General  Grant  had 
built  between  sixty  and  sixty-five  cabins  as  wards  for  wounded 
soldiers.  One  of  these  cabins  was  sold  and  may  be  seen  In  Fair- 
mont Park,  Philadelphia.  The  last  of  those  remaining  was  torn 
down  at  the  time  of  the  World  War.  An  old  print  of  the  place  as 
It  was  at  the  time  of  General  Grant's  occupancy  may  be  seen  In 
the  dining-room.  There  are  also  cuts  in  the  framework  of  one 
window  made  for  the  passages  of  telegraph  wires,  and  from  here 
were  sent  and  received  messages  affecting  the  movements  of  the 
vast  Federal  army.  Passing  from  the  front  around  the  south  side 
of  the  house  and  over  flagstones  brought  from  the  site  of  Sir 
Thomas  Dale's  settlement  at  Bermuda  Hundred,  we  come  to  the 
original  colonial  outhouses  with  their  huge  old  chimneys — the 
kitchen,  laundry  and  quarters. 

The  original  garden  was  to  the  south  of  the  house,  where  is 
now  the  apiary  of  dozens  of  hives.     Though  probably  not  laid  off 

[57] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

by  one  trained  in  landscape  design,  it  must  have  combined  much 
of  the  aesthetic  with  the  practical,  because  a  knowledge  of  plants 
and  a  skill  in  growing  them  was  a  family  trait. 

Thomas  Jefferson,  an  intimate  friend,  said  he  considered  Colo- 
nel Eppes  of  Eppington,  kinsman  of  John  Eppes  of  Appomattox, 
the  first  horticulturist  in  America. 

This  pre-revolutionary  garden  was  completely  destroyed,  as  far 
as  it  is  possible  to  destroy  a  garden,  for  to  this  day,  each  spring, 
blue  hyacinths  and  golden  jonquils  pierce  the  green  sward  under 
the  spreading  trees  to  mark  the  place  of  old-time  flower  beds  and 
fill  the  air  with  a  perfume  suggestive  of  the  beauty  in  the  garden 
of  long  ago. 

About  1845,  Dr.  Eppes  returned  from  extensive  travels  in 
Europe  and  the  Holy  Land,  bringing  many  seeds  and  cuttings  back 
with  him — ivy  from  Kenilworth  Castle  and  other  things  for 
memory's  sake.  About  this  time  he  planted  a  great  variety  of  trees 
and  shrubs  at  Appomattox:  acacias,  locusts,  willows,  magnolias, 
elms,  copper  beech,  pines,  spruce,  yews,  plane-trees,  lindens,  oaks 
and  Murillo  cherries.  Many  of  these  were  destroyed  during  the 
War  Between  the  States,  but  many  survive,  and  as  they  are  ap- 
proaching the  century  mark,  now  appear  majestic  and  dignified. 
These  splendid  trees  edge  the  driveway  and  are  grouped  on  the 
sides  of  the  lawn.  The  pecan  tree  is  especially  at  home  here,  and 
one  given  by  Colonel  Eppes  to  his  butler,  which  was  planted  over  a 
well  in  front  of  a  driveway,  has  attained  immense  size  and  height 
and  is  a  landmark  on  the  way  to  wharf.  Scions  and  cuttings  from 
this  vigorous  tree  have  been  used  extensively  for  propagating  and 
marketed  under  the  name  of  "Appomattox." 

On  Dr.  Eppes'  return  home  after  the  war,  about  1865,  he 
planned  and  planted  the  present  livable  and  lovable  garden;  he 
walled  it  in  on  the  front  by  a  honeysuckle  hedge  growing  over  an 
iron  fence  and  on  two  sides  by  an  embankment  of  earth  planted  in 
trees  after  the  fashion  of  many  gardens  in  Devonshire,  England. 
The  trees  on  such  an  embankment  make  a  charming  background  for 

[58] 


The    James    River    Plantation     Belt 

garden  shrubbery.  Included  in  the  garden  boundaries  are  the  re- 
mains of  the  old  Confederate  rampart.  Fruit  trees,  flowers  and 
vegetables  mingle  and  blend  in  friendly  harmony.  Straight  and 
direct  paths  are  bordered  with  roses  and  perennials  which  look 
happy  and  luxuriant. 

On  the  day  of  our  visit,  a  border  of  fig  trees  was  profligately 
laden  with  fruit.  The  mistress  of  the  garden  told  us  she  had  been 
preserving  figs  all  day  and  the  supply  seemed  undiminished.  This 
is  the  way  of  the  happy  fig  tree.  One  of  the  visitors  from  a  north- 
ern clime  was  enraptured  to  be  invited  to  gather  as  many  ripe  figs 
as  she  wished,  "I  have  never  seen  anything  like  it,"  she  said.  "Of 
course,  I  have  seen  fig  trees  when  I  was  in  New  Orleans  covered 
with  bloom,  but  I  never  saw  them  in  full  fruit  before,"  We 
smilingly  told  her  that  these  fig  trees  had  never  bloomed,  and  that 
no  other  fig  tree  anywhere  would  be  guilty  of  so  flaunting  and  dar- 
ing a  thing  as  bursting  into  full  bloom,  unless,  perhaps,  that  rare 
variety  she  had  seen  in  New  Orleans. 

On  the  outskirts  of  the  garden,  near  the  little  iron  entrance  gate, 
is  a  clump  of  poet's  laurel,  Semele  Androgyna,  a  daughter  plant  of 
"Laurel  of  Westover."  The  glossy  evergreen  leaves  and  red  ber- 
ries made  this  a  favorite  evergreen  of  old-time  gardens.  The  steep 
river  bank,  which  slopes  from  the  lawn,  is  covered  with  tartarian 
honeysuckle,  crepe  myrtle  and  clumps  of  evergreens;  among  these 
and  around  the  summit  is  a  clump  of  Scotch  broom  brought  over 
from  Scotland  in  1790  by  a  friend,  Mr.  Robertson. 

Following  the  rim  of  the  bluff  we  come  to  the  rustic  cedar 
summer-house  at  the  head  of  the  steps  that  lead  down  to  the  boat 
landing,  A  straight,  arbored  pathway,  bordered  with  shrubs,  leads 
from  here  back  to  the  house,  and  around  the  corner  we  catch  a 
glimpse  of  a  tall  pear  tree,  planted  more  than  one  hundred  years 
ago  and  still  bearing  generously.  It  nods  to  us  in  the  breeze;  we 
feel  friendly  and  at  home.  Let  us  tarry  a  while  in  the  summer 
arbor,  listen  to  the  sweet  sounds  of  birds,  watch  a  strange  Insect 
outline  Japanesque  tracery  underneath  the  bark  of  the  cedar  post, 

[59] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

hear  the  lapping  of  the  water  against  the  boathouse  below,  enjoy 
the  cool  breeze  and  smell  the  new-mown  hay.  We  may  catch  some- 
thing of  the  spirit  of  these  early  planters  and  home-makers  who 
builded  with  a  permanent  purpose  for  children  and  grandchildren 
and  great-grandchildren;  for  reposeful  visits  of  leisure,  not  modern 
calls  of  haste  and  hurry,  a  permanence  which  has  survived  the 
ruthless  battles  of  time  and  war,  and  which  still  holds  the  peaceful 
spirit  of  the  times  of  long  ago. 

Laura  C.  Martin  Wheelwright. 


[60] 


(    (.nrden   Walk  at  Shirley 


^ 11 II  •«i>rilii>i|-  —  TirT»aiMBarnBL._ 


ORIGINAL    BOX  GARDEN  AT 

SHIRLEY 


Lila  L.  William? 


SHIRLEY 

O  ALONE  on  a  day  in  June  Into  the  old  garden  at 
Shirley.  As  you  step  from  the  semi-circular,  gravel 
drive  which  passes  the  land  front  of  the  house  on 
to  a  grass  walk,  thence  down  to  the  small  gray 
wooden  gate  set  in  a  tall  box-hedge  which  overtops 
it,  pass  through  and  close  the  gate,  I  pray  you, 
and  stop  a  moment  to  inhale  the  fragrance  and  to  let  the  magic  of 
the  green  things  growing  enfold  you. 

The  garden  has  stood  witness  to  the  passing  of  many  genera- 
tions since  its  squares  were  laid  out;  since  its  walks  were  strewed 
with  gravel  yielded  by  the  river  shore,  and  its  box-hedges  and  trees 
were  set  out.  You  may  pass  on,  now  the  magic  has  its  hold  upon 
you,  down  the  main  walk  where  great  box-trees  flank  your  left — 
trees  in  whose  shady  hollows  little  children  used  to  play  the  drama 
of  home  and  family. 

On  your  right  there  is  a  large  rectangular  plot  about  one  hun- 
dred feet  by  twenty-five,  which  bears  within  its  generous  dimensions 
fragrance  and  beauty  enough  for  one  garden.  Roses,  Fortune's 
New  Yellow,  Gold-of-Ophir,  the  York  and  Lancaster  which  is 
sometimes  a  white  rose  streaked  and  spotted  with  red,  or  a  red  rose 
streaked  and  spotted  with  white,  columbines,  fox-glove,  Chinese 
honeysuckle  and  hydrangeas  are  there,  with  the  old-fashioned 
corchorus  which  spelling  is  probably  incorrect,  though  it  sounds 
like  that,  but  which  is  not  a  rose  at  all,  only  a  tall  flowering  shrub 
covered  with  richly  petaled  yellow  flowers,  beautiful  to  behold. 
Then  there  are  lilacs,  violets,  sweet-shrubs,  winter  honeysuckle, 
forsythia  and  more  of  other  fragrant  beauties  whose  names  I 
would  be  glad  to  give  but  that  the  spelling  is  somewhat  involved 
and  I  am  not  courageous  in  that  line. 

At  the  end  of  this  main  walk  one  comes  to  a  parting  of  the 
ways,  to  the  right  the  transverse  walk  is  sheltered  in  box-trees 

[6i] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

and  to  the  left  it  continues  between  walls  of  box  and  borders  of 
roses,  roses,  roses  on  one  side  and  on  the  other  the  squares  laid 
out  for  vegetable  and  fruits.  Among  the  latter  a  huge  frame-work 
bears  the  heavy  branches  of  an  ancient  Vitis  Vulpina,  known  to  us 
as  the  scuppernong  grape.  The  transverse  walk  continues  quite  to 
the  other  side  of  the  great  garden  and  is  again  sheltered  by  large 
box-trees  up  to  which  it  is  still  bordered  with  roses.  Turning  to 
the  left,  to  follow  an  equally  broad  walk,  parallel  to  the  main 
walk,  you  pass  a  large  garden  square  the  left  half  of  which  is  filled 
with  jonquils,  daffodils  and  narcissi.  All  the  rest  is  roses,  save  close 
to  the  box  border  where  there  are  shrubs  of  all  varieties  and  a 
wonderful  ash-tree  which,  on  this  day  in  June,  is  laden  with  its 
bloom  of  white  fringe. 

Now  you  are  under  an  arbour  covered  with  a  shower  of  pink 
roses  and,  if  you  do  not  swoon  with  the  emotion  caused  by  all  the 
beauty  you  will  in  a  few  steps  come  to  the  soul  of  this  garden — a 
well,  everlastingly  old  and  everlastingly  preserved,  covered  with  a 
pump  without  whose  homely  bounty  beauty  would  perish.  Nearby, 
there  is  triangular  bed  bordered  with  box  which  bears  within  its 
limits  so  much  linked  sweetness,  so  much  refreshment  and  joy  that 
one  is  loath  to  leave  it.  Heliotrope,  lilies,  mignonette,  rose- 
geraniums,  tea-roses,  blue  phlox,  myosotis  and  the  resurrection 
lilies.  As  to  this  last,  plant  the  bulbs  in  the  fall  and  watch  their 
spring  growth,  green  and  promising,  then  let  your  hope  die,  for  the 
growth  withers  and  decays  to  nothingness  and  you  think  you  will 
plant  some  other  thing  to  comfort  you,  when  in  August  there  springs 
to  life  a  leafless  stalk — many  of  them — and  in  a  few  days  your  heart 
is  gladdened  by  a  vision  of  clusters  of  exquisite  pink  lilies,  than 
which  there  can  be  nothing  more  lovely. 

Just  beyond  the  well  stands  an  immense  pecan  tree  planted  by 
John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke,  when  on  a  visit  to  his  relatives,  the 
Carters.  It  has  borne  for  many  years.  In  a  square,  to  the  right  of 
the  tree,  there  is  a  large  bed  of  Cynara  Scolymus,  the  burr  arti- 
choke of  ordinary  parlance.     Its  gray-green  leaves,  its  dilated,  im- 

[62] 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 

bricated  and  prickly  involucre  is  composed  of  numerous  oval  scales 
whose  fleshy  bases  are  much  esteemed  as  an  article  of  food,  so 
plentiful  in  California  and  so  rare  with  us  in  the  east. 

Now  you  turn  and  pass  along  another  transverse  walk  parallel 
with  the  former.  On  your  left  is  the  pit  which  in  winter  holds  the 
Marechal  Neil  rose,  the  lemon  and  gardenia,  begonias  and  all  those 
plants  and  shrubs  that  can  not  be  left  out  to  the  blight  of  winter. 
On  your  right  there  is  another  border  leading  to  the  gate  and  con- 
tinuing beyond  it  to  the  garden  fence.  This  border  merges  into 
another  border  at  right  angles  which  continues  along  the  fence  up 
to  the  transverse  walkway.  Every  border  is  surrounded  by  box- 
hedges  of  ancient  growth.  The  last  border  mentioned  encom- 
passes a  wealth  of  bloom  and  fragrance — irises,  Madonna  lilies, 
nasturtiums,  petunias,  cosmos,  gladioli  and  chrysanthemums,  del- 
phiniums, as  well  as  shrubs  of  many  kinds.  Fortunately  the  hedges 
are  sufficiently  low  to  allow  one  to  step  over  into  squares  and  small 
plots  and  here,  with  gloves,  basket  and  scissors,  one  can  cull  to  one's 
heart's  content  and  joy. 

The  vegetable  squares,  as  before  said,  are  towards  the  upper 
end  of  the  garden,  as  are  also  the  small  fruits,  currants,  goose- 
berries and  raspberries.  Just  beyond  the  artichoke  bed  behold  the 
strawberry  bed !  Push  away  the  straw  and  pick  the  glorious  crim- 
son globes  and  thank  God  that  you  are  alive.  One  feels  like  a 
ravager  of  shrines,  but  there  is  strawberry  cream  for  dinner  and 
strawberry  jam  all  the  winter! 

Fruit  trees  bloom  at  distant  points  about  the  garden  and  give 
additional  beauty,  while  the  vegetables  vie  with  one  another,  turnips 
and  radishes  near  the  gray-green  cabbages;  peas,  beans  and  potatoes 
stand  in  neighbourly  proximity  to  tomato  plants. 

In  the  early  morning,  in  the  long  noonday,  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening,  the  garden  is  a  place  of  refuge,  solace  and  happiness;  the 
atmosphere  is  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  boxwood;  birds,  bees 
and  butterflies  are  there,  their  confidence  in  the  Infinite  provision 

[63] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 


Is  exemplified  as  though  their  Creator  had  spoken.    To  us  humans 
the  call  is  distinct: 

"Come  into  thy  garden, 
From  root  to  crowning  petal  it  is  thine. 
Thine  from  where  the  seeds  are  sown 
Up  to  the  sky,  enclosed  with  all  its  showers." 

Landon  Randolph  Dashiell. 


[64] 


AMPTHILL 

AR  up  the  winding  river  named  in  honor  of  King 
James,  there  stands  upon  the  southern  bank  an  old 
brick  house.  With  flanking  outbuildings  once  used 
as  ballroom  and  kitchen,  with  a  garden  once  ter- 
raced and  a  brick-walled  graveyard,  it  is  a  type  of 
the  stately  bygones  of  Virginia's  ancient  aristocracy. 
This  is  Ampthill,  ancestral  home  of  the  Gary  family,  but  famed 
before  that  as  the  site  of  the  first  iron  furnace  ever  operated  in 
America. 

Known  in  colonial  days  as  Falling  Creek,  The  London  Com- 
pany, at  a  cost  of  four  thousand  pounds  sterling,  in  the  year  1619 
erected  on  this  estate  a  forge  to  be  used  for  smelting  iron  and  lead. 
John  Berkeley,  son  of  Sir  John  Berkeley,  was  placed  in  charge  of 
the  works,  and  the  iron  made  here  was  said  to  be  as  good  as  any 
in  the  world.  When  the  crushing  year  of  1622  came,  with  its 
fateful  tidings  of  the  Indian  massacre,  only  two  of  the  twenty-four 
settlers  at  Falling  Creek  were  spared. 

For  many  years  the  works  were  abandoned,  but,  April  20,  1687, 
William  Byrd  was  granted  eighteen  hundred  acres  of  land,  which 
included  the  ill-fated  iron  furnace.  On  October  29,  1690,  he 
secured  an  additional  grant  of  fifty-six  hundred  and  forty-four 
acres,  the  reason  given  for  the  latter  being  that,  "there  having  been 
iron  works  at  Falling  Creek  in  the  time  of  the  company,  and 
Colonel  Byrd  having  an  intention  to  carry  them  on,  and  foreseeing 
that  abundance  of  wood  might  be  necessary  for  so  great  a  work, 
he  took  up  a  large  tract." 

In  1733,  the  second  William  Byrd,  on  one  of  his  adventurous 
rides,  bribed  an  Indian  to  drop  secretly  a  tomahawk  on  the  spot 
where  the  mine  was  supposed  to  be.  In  his  "History  of  the 
Dividing  Line,"  Byrd  tells  the  story:  "We  sent  for  an  old  Indian 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

called  Shacco  Will,  living  about  7  miles  off  who  reckoned  himself 
78  years  Old.  This  fellow  pretended  he  could  conduct  us  to  a 
Silver  Mine,  that  lies  either  upon  Eno  River  or  a  Creek  of  it, 
not  far  from  where  the  Tuscaruros  once  lived.  But  by  some  Cir- 
cumstances in  his  Story,  it  seems  to  be  rather  a  Lead  than  a  Silver 
Mine.  However  such  as  it  is  he  promised  to  go  and  shew  it  to  me 
whenever  I  pleased.  To  comfort  his  heart  I  gave  him  a  Bottle  of 
Rum  with  which  he  made  himself  very  happy." 

Prior  to  the  Revolution  the  estate,  which  up  to  this  time  had 
been  known  only  as  Falling  Creek,  became  the  property  of  Archi- 
bald Cary,  who  changed  the  name  to  Ampthill,  and  for  the  third 
time  the  iron  works  were  put  in  operation.  Though  Colonel  Cary 
abandoned  the  old  forge  and  used  its  pond  for  a  grist  mill,  he  built 
new  works  on  the  original  spot  in  1760. 

Known  as  "Old  Iron,"  Colonel  Cary  was  chairman  of  the  Vir- 
ginia Committee  which  drafted  the  first  Declaration  of  Rights  and 
State  Constitution  in  1776,  so  it  was  not  surprising  that  his  iron 
works  were  destroyed  by  Tarleton  during  the  Revolution.  The 
square  brick  structure,  now  faded  to  a  warm  old  rose,  which  was 
built  by  him,  has  four  rooms  on  each  floor,  with  a  long  hall  cutting 
between.  Distinction  is  found  in  the  heavy  paneling  and  interior 
carving;  in  the  inside  blinds,  and  the  gracefully  designed  windows 
with  deeply  embrasured  seats. 

Flanking  the  dwelling,  about  sixty  feet  to  the  west,  is  a  smaller 
building  of  one  story  and  a  half,  built  also  of  brick  laid  in  Flemish 
bond.  This  was  the  colonial  kitchen,  its  massive  iron  crane  and 
ample  fireplace  giving  testimony  of  the  lavish  food  once  prepared 
there. 

Balancing  the  kitchen  upon  the  east,  a  similar  building  stands. 
But  this  house  is  paneled  from  the  floor  to  its  conical  ceiling  and 
was  used  as  a  formal  ballroom.  Though  now  bare  and  cheerless — 
even  forbidding — its  rich  oak  walls  have  responded  to  the  tune  of 
harpsichord  and  flute,  as  they  reflected  against  their  polished  sides 
the  frills  of  the  dancers  of  the  colonial  minuet. 

[66] 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 

On  his  way  to  Petersburg  from  Richmond  in  178 1,  the  Marquis 
de  Chastellux  lost  his  way,  but  he  says,  "We  had  no  reason  to  re- 
gret our  error,  as  it  was  only  two  miles  about,  and  we  skirted 
James  River  to  a  charming  place  called  Warwick  where  a  group 
of  handsome  houses  form  a  sort  of  village,  and  there  are  some 
superb  ones  in  the  neighborhood;  among  others,  that  of  Colonel 
Cary,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river."  The  town  to  which  the 
Marquis  referred  was  established  in  the  second  year  of  the  reign 
of  George  III.  At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  it  boasted  mills, 
ware  and  storehouses,  rope-walks  and  a  shipbuilding  yard.  Unfor- 
tunately, everything  was  destroyed  by  the  British  in  178 1.  Up  to 
this  time,  however,  fortune  smiled  upon  the  Cary  family  and  bur- 
nished their  rooftree  with  a  golden  horn.  It  was  to  this  James 
River  country  seat  that  Archibald  Cary  brought  his  beautiful  bride, 
Mary  Randolph,  from  Curies  Neck,  across  the  river.  At  that  time 
jewels,  laces  and  brocades  were  brought  in  their  own  vessels,  to 
land  on  the  Ampthill  shores.  There  were  coaches  and  fine  horses, 
rare  wines  to  stock  the  now  empty  cellar — in  short,  everything  con- 
nected with  this  splendid  old  home  was  the  very  finest  to  be  found 
in  Virginia. 

The  road  which  leads  from  the  Petersburg  highway  to  Ampthill 
is  rich  in  trees  and  native  shrubbery.  Dogwood,  birch  and  oak 
trees  shade  a  narrow,  drowsy  brook  which  flows  from  a  spring 
near  by  to  supply  the  old  mill  pond.  Scattered  throughout — along 
the  roadside  and  through  the  woodland — are  quantities  of  Scotch 
broom,  or  gorse.  This  seems  to  point  to  some  British  encamp- 
ment as,  since  Revolutionary  days,  gorse  has  come  down  to  Amer- 
icans under  the  name  of  "Cornwallis  hay."  The  story  goes  that 
the  seeds  were  brought  over  in  the  hay  used  to  feed  the  horses  of 
the  British  army.  One  can  easily  fancy  a  red-coated  trooper,  dis- 
consolate, and  wandering  beneath  the  dogwood  trees,  singing  the 
words  of  the  old  Scotch  ballad,  "Kissin's  out  of  fashion  when  the 
broom  is  out  of  bloom." 

The  entrance  road  turns  sharply  onto  the  lawn  which  surrounds 

[67] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

the  house  and  is  shaded  by  locust  and  walnut  trees.  The  garden, 
which  lies  immediately  in  front  on  a  broad  terrace,  though  without 
consistent  care  for  many  years,  is  still  rich  in  old-time  shrubs — 
lilacs,  crepe  myrtles  and  mock,  orange — which  stand  incon- 
sequentially within  its  boundaries.  Althea — white,  rosy  and  purple; 
lilies — white,  tawny  and  yellow;  yuccas — "our  Lord's  candles,"  as 
they  are  called  in  Mexico,  lift  high  their  torches  to  light  up  the 
romantic  spot.  Scattering  box  bushes,  gnarled  and  scant  of  leaf, 
show  the  outlines  of  ancient  walks  of  romance,  their  pungent  odor 
bringing  a  breath  of  days  long  past  and  dead.  The  outlines  left 
prove  that  in  its  early  days  this  garden  was  one  of  pretense,  but 
time  and  changed  conditions  have  had  their  play  at  Ampthill,  and 
now  the  garden  follows  no  certain,  formal  lines. 

At  its  best  this  garden  was,  in  many  ways,  like  its  sisters  across 
the  sea;  it  had  the  same  knots  of  flowers  in  the  shape  of  diamonds, 
crescents  or  squares,  all  bound  by  the  shrub  dear  to  us  and  the 
hearts  of  our  ancestors — the  gallant,  cheerful  boxwood. 

It  was  a  typical  Colonial  garden  that  lay  on  the  banks  of  James 
River,  and  it  is  still  a  garden  to  wander  in,  to  sit  in,  to  dream  in. 
All  is  very  quiet  here;  happily,  the  bustling  world  seems  very  far 
away.  Some  of  the  old-fashioned  flowers  still  stand  where  they 
were  set  out  in  the  old-fashioned  way.  The  outlines  of  the  prim 
circles  and  squares  may  still  be  hunted  out  by  the  remnants  of 
their  stiff  and  straggly  box  borders;  but  for  so  many  years  have 
shrub  and  plant  and  vine  lived  together  that  all  of  this  formality 
has  been  done  away  with,  and  across  old  lines  new  bloom  now 
mingles  with  new  bloom. 

A  snowdrop  now  brings  the  memory  of  a  bride  long  gone; 
later  in  the  springtime,  jonquils  and  narcissi  dance  gayly  in  the 
breeze.  The  winsome,  profligate  bulbs  no  longer  confine  them- 
selves to  the  garden  proper,  and  they  blend  deliciously  with  the 
delicate  blue  hyacinths,  which  are  very  abundant  and  much  in  evi- 
dence here.  This  wealth  of  pale  spring  flowers  has  scattered  over 
the  lawn  on  both  fronts  of  the  house  and  raced  down  the  terrace 

[68] 


The     James    River     Plantation     Belt 


to  end  its  pilgrimage  at  the  high  brick  wall  which  secludes  from 
idle  gaze  the  Temple  burying-ground. 

This  six-foot  wall,  covered  with  the  grays  and  golds  of  age  and 
topped  with  crescent  bricks,  is  in  such  good  repair  that  the  only 
break  in  it  was  made  when  it  was  built,  and  this  was  to  permit  the 
entrance  way.  Roses  and  periwinkle  here  live  together  as  kindred 
in  a  spot  as  peaceful  as  the  imagination  can  picture.  A  wistaria 
of  patriarchal  age,  with  gnarled  and  knotted  stem,  with  ivy  of 
ancient  lineage,  drape  the  walls  and  festoon  the  tombs,  the  oldest 
of  which  dates  back  to  1800.  To  the  south  and  the  east  and  the 
north  of  the  graveyard  the  apple  orchard  of  about  fifteen  acres 
extends. 

In  April,  the  rosy-red  bud  unfolds  its  blossoms  near  this  garden. 
In  May,  a  dogwood  pitches  its  tent  within  its  borders.  In  June,  the 
frail  mimosas  call  to  the  humming-birds,  which  fly  to  it  from  the 
acacias  that  overshadow  it  from  the  lawn.  With  September,  the 
hickory  and  walnut  trees  give  warning  of  autumn's  onslaught. 
Then  comes  the  glory  of  flaming  maples,  which  lose  their  leaves 
only  in  time  to  give  way  to  the  blue  and  red  berries  of  cedar  and 
holly  which  brighten  old  Ampthill  till  spring. 

And  it  is  in  the  spring  that  the  old  place  is  at  its  loveliest,  for 
then  the  apple  trees  are  in  full  bloom.  At  this  season  no  one 
walks  in  the  garden  or  stands  on  the  lawn,  but  is  told  some  tale 
of  haunted  chambers  or  of  water  sprites  seen  on  calm  May 
nights  dancing  in  the  lowlands.  For,  when  the  gorse  throws  out  its 
gold  banners  and  the  apple  trees  pitch  their  pink  tents,  Colonel  Gary 
walks  once  more  in  his  garden  to  see  if  all  goes  well  with  his  place. 

This  old  garden  in  its  calm  repose  means — ah,  so  much! 
Memories  come  to  the  least  romantic  and  fancy  slips  back  over  the 
bridge  of  two  hundred  years  to  recall  what  Ampthill  stood  for  in 
the  days  of  the  English  Georges.  But,  the  thing  of  all  others  that 
appeals  to  us  of  this  later  and  much  changed  day,  is  the  human 
interest  the  old  garden  awakens.  It  is  this  very  quality  that  lends 
to  the  semi-neglected  spot  its  elusive,  haunting  charm. 

[69] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 


The  Ampthill  of  today  is  very  different  from  the  Ampthill  that 
Archibald  Cary  knew.  Its  spacious  rooms  have  been  used  as  a 
tavern,  and  it  has  been  otherwise  desecrated.  The  sweeping  lawn, 
which  once  led  to  the  river,  has  been  cut  into  fields,  and  time  and 
the  hand  of  man  have  felled  many  of  the  aged  trees  which  once 
guarded  the  place  like  a  corps  of  faithful  sentinels.  How  sad  to 
think  that  it  should  have  passed  from  the  possession  of  the  family 
who  made  it  famous!  But  that  seems  to  be  the  fate  of  most  old 
homesteads.  They  are  doomed  to  linger  on  in  poverty  and  neglect 
long  after  their  original  owners  are  sleeping.  In  poverty,  because 
they  must  starve  in  their  old  age  for  the  sound  of  familiar  and 
much-loved  voices;  and  in  neglect,  because  new  owners  seldom  seek 
them  with  a  feeling  of  pride  in  possession.  They  have  nothing 
left  but  their  memories  and  traditions — a  few  bright  flowers  grown 
among  too  many  tears. 

Edith  Dabney  Tunis  Sale. 


[70] 


Richmond  and  Vicinity 


CHURCH    HILL 


N  Mordecai's  "Richmond  in  By-Gone  Days"  he 
speaks  of  the  Adams  family  as  original  proprietors 
of  the  eastern  portion  of  the  city.  Certainly  this 
statement  is  true  if  we  may  judge  by  their  once 
stately  homes  and  ornamental  gardens. 

Colonel  Richard  Adams,  son  of  Ebenezer 
Adams  and  Tabitha  Cocke,  was  born  in  1723  and  became  a  man 
of  wealth  and  influence,  being  a  member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses, 
also  a  member  of  the  famous  Convention  of  1775.  Colonel  Adams 
had  three  sons,  each  of  whom  were  prominent  men  of  that  day  and 
whose  homes  were  the  rendezvous  of  many  distinguished  Virginians. 

By  some  strange  trick  of  fortune,  the  oldest  of  these  homes, 
built  by  the  first  Colonel  Adams  in  1760,  is  the  only  one  which 
has  withstood  the  onward  march  of  progress,  and  today  is  stand- 
ing almost  unchanged  after  a  period  of  one  hundred  and  sixty- 
three  years.  Built  in  the  shadow  of  old  St.  John's  Church,  it  has 
shared  alike  its  joys  and  sorrows  and  many  of  its  traditions. 

We  are  indebted  to  Mrs.  Edmund  Randolph  Williams,  the  fifth 
in  descent  from  Colonel  Adams,  for  the  photograph  of  this  in- 
teresting old  home. 

Tucked  away  behind  the  high  walls  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
Convent  of  Monte  Maria  it  stands,  far  from  the  "weariness,  the 
fever  and  the  fret"  of  the  busy  world;  mellowed  by  the  sunshine 
of  years,  gently  touched  by  the  hand  of  Time.  From  its  lofty  height 
it  has  watched  a  "scattered  village  growing  into  a  city,  far  out 
on  the  landscape  seen  the  iron  roads  bringing  commerce  to  its 
merchants,  heard  the  multitudinous  sounds  of  a  great  city." 

The  Sister  who  showed  us  through  the  house  and  grounds  told 
us,  with  much  pride,  that  portions  of  the  ceiling  had  never  been 
repaired.     The  plaster  walls  with  their  delicate  tracery,  and  the 

[73] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

floors  of  wide  boards  and  hand-wrought  nails  brought  over  from 
England,  are  still  intact.  The  house  is  entirely  hidden  from  sight, 
and  if  one  should  go  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  steep  hill  and  peer 
up  with  all  their  eyes,  only  the  tops  of  the  dormer  windows  would 
be  their  reward. 

Unlike  the  house,  the  grounds  had  a  very  different  tale  to  tell. 
Nothing  was  left  of  the  spacious  lawn  with  its  many  shade  trees 
and  flowering  shrubs,  though  here  and  there  a  few  lilacs  and  crepe 
myrtles  bloom  bravely  on.  Remnants  of  the  formal  garden  could 
still  be  seen,  with  its  oblong  plots,  edged  with  box  to  keep  the  unruly 
little  plants  off  those  neat  gravel  paths.  But  the  avenue  of  lindens, 
which  bordered  the  brick  walk  leading  to  the  house,  had  long  since 
been  cut  down,  one  lone  tree  standing  guard  near  the  doorway. 

At  the  south  of  the  house,  and  overlooking  the  river,  are  five 
terraces  covered  with  old-fashioned  flags,  which  must  be  a  marvel 
of  beauty  in  the  spring.  Fig  bushes  bask  in  the  southern  sun, 
while  at  the  east  of  the  house  a  few  gnarled  fruit  trees  and  a  quaint 
old  grape  arbor  stand.  The  pit  on  the  slope  of  one  of  the  ter- 
races, still  used  by  the  Sisters,  is  filled  with  bloom. 

Benedict  Arnold,  in  his  brief  raid  on  Richmond,  used  this  house, 
as  well  as  St.  John's  Church,  as  barracks  for  his  British  soldiers. 

Thomas  Jefferson  was  an  intimate  friend  and  frequent  guest 
of  Colonel  Adams,  and  we  can  picture  the  two  on  that  memorable 
March  day  of  1775,  their  breasts  filled  with  apprehension,  hurry- 
ing over  to  St.  John's  Church,  where  Patrick  Henry  was  so  soon 
to  sway  that  illustrious  body  of  men,  and  where  then  and  there 
George  Washington  determined  on  his  definite  policy  of  war. 

Home  of  Dr.  John  Adams 

Dr.  John  Adams,  the  third  son  of  Colonel  Richard  Adams, 
built  on  the  corner  of  Twenty-fourth  and  Grace  Streets  that  stately 
mansion  which,  up  to  a  few  years  ago,  was  such  an  ornament  to 
the  eastern  part  of  the  city.  It  stood  on  one  of  the  highest  of 
Richmond's  seven  hills,  its  dignified  appearance,  as  seen  from  the 

[74] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 

street,  hardly  preparing  one  for  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  rear. 
A  large  columned  porch  extended  across  the  entire  back  of  the 
house,  and  from  this  porch  marvelous  mosaics  of  beauty  were 
glimpsed  through  the  great  trees,  whose  spreading  branches  swept 
the  lawn;  in  the  distance  the  peaceful  river,  beyond  the  fields  bathed 
in  sunshine. 

Like  the  paternal  home,  terraces  edged  with  box  broke  the 
steep  descent  to  the  river,  while  at  the  foot  of  each  terrace  blos- 
somed the  peonies  and  roses,  the  columbines,  and  sweet  william. 
A  fernery  flourished  in  a  shady  corner,  and  here  masses  of  lily  of 
the  valley  sent  their  fragrance  out  on  the  summer  air.  A  broad 
graveled  path,  bordered  on  either  side  by  masses  of  shrubs  and 
evergreens,  led  down  to  the  summer-house,  smothered  in  roses. 

Many  distinguished  men  were  entertained  in  this  home,  notably 
LaFayette,  when  he  visited  Richmond  in  1824.  Edmund  Ran- 
dolph, aide-de-camp  to  General  Washington,  Secretary  of  State, 
and  Governor  of  Virginia,  was  also  a  frequent  caller  at  this  house. 
It  was  here,  that  after  visiting  his  wife's  grave,  as  was  his  daily 
custom,  he  was  stricken  with  paralysis,  though  his  death  did  not 
occur  until  three  years  later.  It  is  an  interesting  coincidence  that 
Edmund  Randolph  Williams,  fifth  In  descent  from  Edmund  Ran- 
dolph, should  have  married  the  fifth  in  descent  from  Dr.  Adams. 

In  later  years,  this  house  was  much  in  the  public  mind,  on  ac- 
count of  its  being  the  home  of  Miss  Van  Lew,  a  noted  Federal 
spy  during  the  period  of  the  Confederacy.  A  secret  passage  way 
led  from  the  house  to  the  river,  and  this  Miss  Van  Lew  is  said  to 
have  used  in  aiding  Federal  prisoners  to  escape.  Nothing  remains 
of  this  once  lovely  home.  Down  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  grounds 
we  found  a  few  fragments  of  the  old  brick  wall,  which  at  one  time 
had  encircled  the  entire  place. 

The  Carrington  House 

Facing  Libby  Hill,  and  with  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  sur- 
rounding country,  stood  the  residence  of  Colonel  George  Mayo 

[75] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Carrington.  He  married  first,  Margaret,  the  widow  of  Colonel 
Charles  Pickett  and  daughter  of  Dr.  John  Adams.  His  second 
wife  was  Susan  Grymes  Braxton,  the  third  in  descent  from  Carter 
Braxton,  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  His  land  on 
the  east  sloped  down  to  that  historic  spot  known  as  Bloody  Run, 
where  Bacon,  in  1676,  had  such  a  fierce  battle  with  the  Indians 
that  the  little  stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  literally  ran  with  blood. 

Just  as  the  stirring  days  of  Revolutionary  history  hang  around 
those  other  homes,  so  memories  of  1861-65  come  crowding  over 
one  as  we  recall  how  the  sick,  the  wounded  and  dying  of  the  Con- 
federate army  were  nursed  and  tenderly  cared  for  by  the  inmates 
of  this  house,  one  poor  fellow  being  buried  in  the  garden  while 
Richmond  was  under  fire. 

In  the  "Diary  of  a  Southern  Refugee,"  Mrs.  McGuire  speaks 
of  this  house  "as  a  picture  of  comfort  and  hospitality,  the  wealth 
being  used  at  this  troublous  time  for  the  comfort  of  others."  So 
freely  was  this  wealth  used  that  Mrs.  Carrington  found  herself 
after  the  war  not  only  widowed,  but  like  so  many  gentlewomen  of 
the  South,  obliged  to  part  with  some  of  her  land.  Year  by  year 
portions  of  the  grounds  were  sold.  The  first  to  go  was  the  vege- 
table garden  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  A  white  paling  fence, 
hidden  by  a  hedge  of  bridal  wreath  and  single  and  double  holly- 
hocks, enclosed  this  part  of  the  garden,  where,  in  large  square 
beds,  many  varieties  of  vegetables  were  planted,  and  strawberries 
and  raspberries  grew  in  abundance:  and  what  garden  of  that  time 
could  fail  to  have  its  sage  and  rue,  sweet  marjoram  and  silver 
thyme?  Grape  vines  covered  the  long  arbor  which  separated  the 
vegetable  garden  from  the  orchard,  with  its  cherry  and  pear  trees, 
mulberry,  apricot,  apple,  and  peach.  At  the  extreme  end  of  the 
ground  was  the  old  carriage  house  and  stable,  which  was  standing 
long  after  the  house  had  gone.  In  a  brick  courtyard  the  servants' 
quarters  and  old  smokehouse  stood. 

Ruskin  has  said  that  "Flowers  only  flourish  rightly  in  the  garden 
of  some  one  who  loves  them."     If  this  is  true,  there  were  many 

[76] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 

which  bore  mute  testimony  to  the  love  of  the  owner,  for  never 
have  shrubs  and  flowers  reached  such  perfection.  Lilacs  and  snow- 
balls, mock  oranges,  crepe  myrtles,  white  and  yellow  jessamines, 
calycanthus  bushes,  winter  honeysuckle — all  blooming  in  profusion. 
Roses,  a  perfect  riot  of  roses — tea  roses,  moss  roses.  Giant  of  Bat- 
tle, York  and  Lancaster,  Seven  Sisters — roses  everywhere,  clamber- 
ing over  fences,  up  the  old  pear  tree,  anywhere,  everywhere!  The 
hyacinths  and  daffodils,  snowdrops  and  tulips,  white  and  purple 
violets  peeping  through  the  snow.  The  tiny  "lady  iris,"  with  its 
faint  elusive  odor,  which  mammy  said  "nobody  but  'ristocrats 
could  smell."  Summer-houses,  covered  with  roses  and  carpeted 
with  periwinkle,  were  on  either  side  of  the  moss-grown  brick  walk 
leading  to  the  gate,  while  magnolia  trees,  with  their  wax-like 
flowers,  were  a  delight  to  the  eye. 

A  large  evergreen,  called  the  "Tree  of  Heaven,"  grew  on  one 
side  of  the  porch  near  the  greenhouse,  its  branches  hanging  grace- 
fully down.  On  the  other  side  was  a  most  beautiful  double-flower- 
ing crab-apple  tree.  I  have  seen  old-time  "hack  drivers"  point  this 
out  to  tourists  on  their  sight-seeing  expeditions. 

Much  of  the  beauty  and  charm  of  this  garden  was  still  there 
when,  in  later  years,  my  father  was  called  to  the  rectorship  of  St. 
John's  Church,  and  this  house  was  used  as  a  rectory,  and  as  the 
shadows  lengthened  around  the  old  home,  the  laughter  of  children 
and  the  song  of  birds  were  once  more  heard  in  the  evening  air. 

Penelope  Wright  Weddell  Anderson. 


[77] 


[E^v 

1 

THE   ARCHER    HOUSE 

HE  Archer  house  stands  at  the  corner  of  Sixth  and 
Franklin  Streets,  and  was  built  in  1815,  by  Edward 
Cunningham,  an  Irish  gentleman. 

It   was    designed   by  the   well-known   London 
architect,   R.  A.  Mills,  who  also  drew  the  plans 
for  Monumental  Church,  the  Wickham  house,  now 
the  Valentine  Museum,  and  the  Marx  house,  all  of  Richmond. 

The  general  plan  of  the  Archer  house,  with  its  parapet  walls, 
has  often  been  copied  by  architects  from  other  places.  In  the 
early  twenties  the  house  was  bought  from  Mr.  Cunningham  by 
Dr.  George  Watson,  of  Ionia,  Louisa  County,  Virginia,  and  it 
has  been  occupied  continuously  by  the  same  family  for  a  century. 
The  present  owners  are  Misses  Anne  and  Virginia  Archer  and 
Mrs.  Andrew  H.  Christian,  daughters  of  Mrs.  Robert  S.  Archer, 
who  was  the  youngest  daughter  of  Dr.  George  Watson. 

The  large,  square,  stuccoed  mansion,  with  its  Ionic  portico  and 
small  brass  door  bell,  the  first  to  supplant  the  knocker  in  Richmond, 
is  surrounded  by  one  of  the  few  walled  gardens  left  in  Richmond. 
The  high  brick  wall  is  covered  with  English  ivy,  which  falls  over 
the  top  and  sways  gracefully  before  the  eyes  of  the  stranger,  who 
looks  with  wonder  at  such  dignity  and  seclusion  in  the  heart  of  a 
city  teeming  with  life  and  twentieth-century  progress. 

Perhaps  the  most  interesting  view  of  the  garden  is  the  one 
from  the  steps  which  lead  into  it  from  the  long  portico  at  the 
rear  of  the  house.  Here  one  sees  the  old  gray  urns  and  the  Italian 
marble  seat,  well  beaten  by  time  and  suggestive  of  old  world 
gardens.  Serpentine  gravel  walks  wind  out  from  an  ivy-covered 
circle  in  the  centre,  where  a  tall  and  noble  magnolia  tree  stands. 
In  the  most  secluded  corner  is  hidden  the  brick  pit  greenhouse, 
where  the  pink  camellias  and  fruit-laden  lemon  and  orange  trees, 

[78] 


Richmond     and     Vicinity 


brought   forth   on   great   occasions   to    decorate   the   house,   once 
nourished.    To  the  left  of  the  greenhouse  are  two  large  box-trees. 

There  was  a  custom  among  the  ladies  of  the  earlier  period  to 
exchange  flower  slips  and  seed.  In  this  way  friendships  and 
memories  were  renewed  each  year  as  the  plants  blossomed.  So 
the  Watson  or  Archer  garden  gave  out  the  fragrance  of  Westover, 
Shirley  and  Brandon;  Barboursville  and  Castle  Hill.  In  return, 
the  Byrds,  Carters  and  Harrisons;  the  Barbours  and  Rives,  re- 
ceived their  slips  from  the  chatelaine  of  this  house.  All  the  old-"^ 
fashioned  flowers  grew  here — lilacs  and  snowballs;  cydonia 
japonica,  syringa,  calycanthus,  and  yellow  roses.  There  were 
others,  and  many  rows  of  hyacinths  and  jonquils;  tulips  and 
daffodils. 

A  brick  courtyard  adjoins  the  garden  and  a  low  gateway  leads 
into  it.  On  the  right  of  this  gate  are  several  stone  steps  with 
foot-scrapers,  and  here  one  passes  under  an  arch  of  roses  into  the 
kitchen-garden. 

Opening  onto  this  court  are  several  brick  buildings,  a  smoke- 
house, a  large  kitchen  building  with  servants'  quarters,  a  green- 
house, and  numerous  wood  and  coal  houses. 

At  the  end  of  a  long,  straight  walk  in  the  garden  is  the  stable, 
with  a  high  and  heavy  gate,  through  which  the  family  carriage 
was  driven. 

For  a  hundred  years  a  picturesque  sycamore  tree  stood  in  the 
middle  of  the  pavement  outside  the  garden  wall.  This  tree  measured 
fourteen  feet  and  three  inches  in  circumference,  and  the  oldest 
inhabitant  cannot  remember  when  it  was  not  there.  Of  primeval 
growth,  it  had  boldly  taken  possession  of  the  street,  and  it  was 
only  removed  by  the  city  authorities  when  pedestrians  demanded  it. 
Its  silvery  branches  furnished  material  for  several  of  our  best 
and  most  beloved  writers.  The  late  Thomas  Nelson  Page  likened 
the  pallor  of  a  dying  man  to  the  bark  of  this  tree,  in  one  of  his 
short  stories,  and  both  the  tree  and  the  Archer  house  are  described 
In  Ellen   Glasgow's   "The   Romance  of  a   Plain   Man."      It  was 


[79] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

planted  by  Samuel  Dobie  who,  as  early  as  1782,  occupied  the 
stuccoed  building  which  stands  on  the  northeast  side  of  the  resi- 
dence. Samuel  Dobie  was  the  architect  of  the  roof,  the  steps  and 
the  interior  of  the  Virginia  State  Capitol,  the  plan  of  the  exterior, 
a  reproduction  of  the  Maison  Carree  at  Nismes,  France,  having 
been  brought  to  America  by  Thomas  Jefferson. 

In  the  year  1847  Daniel  Webster  was  invited  to  Richmond  by 
the  citizens  and  a  public  banquet  was  given  for  him.  This  distin- 
guished statesman  was  entertained  in  the  Archer  home  at  a  notable 
dinner.  Many  other  interesting  men  have  been  within  its  walls — 
Henry  Clay,  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  the  Virginia  ^Embassadors 
to  England  and  France — James  Barbour  and  William  C.  Rives; 
and  greatest  and  most  beloved  of  all,  General  Robert  E.  Lee.  The 
late  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell  was  a  kinsman  of  the  family  and  visited 
there  when  a  boy  and  again  in  later  years,  after  he  became  one  of 
America's  eminent  men  in  medicine  and  letters. 

Frances  Archer  Christian. 


[80] 


w^ 


VALENTINE   MUSEUM 


N  old  Clay  Street,  in  Richmond,  there  still  remain 
many  beautiful  houses,  reminiscent  of  the  promi- 
nent families  who  played  their  part  in  the  life  of 
the  city  in  the  early  years  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. At  the  far  end,  on  a  hill-top,  overlooking 
Shockoe  Valley,  is  the  White  House  of  the  Con- 
federacy with  its  majestic  and  imposing  columns.  As  the  Con- 
federate Museum,  it  harbors  today  invaluable  records  and  relics 
of  the  times  of  its  palmy  days. 

Just  one  block  above  is  the  Valentine  Museum,  built  by  the 
gifted  architect,  Robert  Mills,  in  1812  for  John  Wickham,  Esq., 
who  was  the  leading  counsel  in  the  defense  of  Aaron  Burr  in  1807. 
It  is  said  that  it  was  largely  through  his  eloquence  that  Burr  was 
acquitted.  Chief  Justice  Marshall  and  Aaron  Burr  dined  to- 
gether with  Mr.  V^ickham  at  his  home.  The  Chief  Justice  was 
very  much  criticized  for  this  by  the  opponents  of  Burr  and  he 
replied  to  them,  saying  if  Mr.  Wickham  did  him  the  honor  of 
inviting  him  to  dine  at  his  home,  he  could  but  do  him  the  courtesy 
of  accepting. 

-  During  the  Civil  War  the  Honorable  C.  G.  Memminger,  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury  of  the  Confederate  States,  resided  here. 
More  recently  it  was  the  home  of  Mr.  Mann  S.  Valentine,  who 
founded  the  Museum,  and  through  whose  bounty  and  love  for  the 
beautiful,  this  Treasure  House  has  been  preserved  for  the  people 
of  Richmond. 

From  the  street  the  house  presents  a  plain  and  dignified,  but 
imposing,  appearance,  with  its  thick  brick  stuccoed  walls,  and  a 
square  porch  with  rounded  columns  and  broad  steps  leading  from 
the  street.  But  it  is  not  until  after  we  have  sounded  the  knocker 
and  passed  through  the  vestibule  into  the  most  beautiful  circular 

[81] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

hall  that  we  feci  we  are  In  a  house  planned  by  an  artist  as  a 
dwelling  for  people  of  taste  and  distinction. 

The  splendid  winding  stair  ascends  to  the  hallway  above,  ter- 
minating In  a  gallery  the  shape  of  an  artist's  palette.  The  banis- 
ters of  the  stairway  are  of  rich  mahogany,  while  on  Its  base  board 
is  carved  a  festoon  of  magnolia  buds  and  blossoms.  An  ornate 
chandelier  of  bronze  suspended  in  the  center  of  the  spiral  stairway 
has  gas  jets  of  exquisitely  wrought  design  on  each  landing,  so  ar- 
ranged as  to  light  both  upper  and  lower  halls,  replacing  the  original 
chandelier  of  prisms  and  candles.  Square  and  gracefully-arched 
doorways  lead  from  the  hall  Into  the  spacious  rooms  on  the  first 
floor,  and  the  doors  are  of  solid  mahogany  with  silver  knobs  and 
hinges.  One  of  these  Is  of  a  very  unusual  curved  design.  The  rooms 
are  of  beautiful  proportion,  giving  a  sense  of  statellness  and  ele- 
gance, and  contain  now  many  handsome  carved  mantels  of  Floren- 
tine marble,  which  take  the  place  of  the  originals  of  carved  wood. 

First,  one  enters  a  small  library,  thence  into  a  large  drawing- 
room,  through  the  center  music-room  into  a  spacious  and  imposing 
dining-room.  Running  along  these  three  rooms,  the  outer  wall  of 
which  makes  a  sweeping  curve  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Is  a  beau- 
tiful pillared  veranda,  which  opens  out  onto  the  old  garden. 

It  Is,  Indeed,  an  unique  surprise  when  visiting  this  treasure  house 
of  objet  d'  art  and  relics  of  ancient  days,  to  step  from  the  drawang- 
room  onto  the  portico  and  find  oneself  In  the  midst  of  a  garden. 
It  is  true,  the  small  strip  of  ground  on  the  street  front  of  the 
house  boasting  of  old  evergreens,  yews,  euonymus,  yuccas,  on 
each  side  of  the  porch,  would  suggest  plant  lovers  here  as  well  as 
builders;  nevertheless,  one  experiences  a  thrilling  surprise  on  de- 
scending the  steps  at  the  back  into  the  terraced  garden  of  a  century 
ago,  which  originally  occupied  a  city  block.  An  archway  in  the 
wall  enclosing  the  flower  garden  led  Into  a  paved  court  where  were 
the  outbuildings,  thence  into  the  fruit  and  vegetable  garden. 
Splendid  hollys,  elms  and  other  trees  can  still  be  seen  beyond  the 
wall.     It  is  a  pity  Its  confines  have  ever  been  restricted  an  inch. 

[82] 


Richmond     and     Viciniiy 


The  outlines  of  the  terraces  repeat  the  lines  and  curves  of  the 
house  and  portico,  making  It,  Indeed,  a  living  extension  of  the  house 
itself.  This  was  the  place  of  the  confidential  talks,  the  intimate 
unrestrained  life — the  out-door  living  room. 

Old-fashioned  brick  walls  invitingly  lead  one  under  rose- 
arched  pathways  to  a  refreshing  pool  and  fountain  in  the  center, 
which  is  guarded  on  three  sides  by  marble  forms  of  the  goddesses 
of  Beauty,  Flowers  and  the  Harvest.  From  these  radiate  paths 
around  parterres  filled  with  every  old-fashioned  flower  which  can 
now  be  coaxed  into  bloom  by  the  skillful  hands  of  its  present 
loving  caretaker,  who  says  she  receives  each  season  plants  and  seeds 
from  numberless  appreciative  guests  who  have  visited  the  house 
and  loved  the  garden.  All  do  not  thrive,  alas!  For  the  trees 
have  grown  since  the  days  the  builder  first  planted  them  there 
and  the  garden  is  now  one  of  shade  and  sifted  sunlight. 

We  find  an  amazing  variety  of  plants  for  so  small  a  space  and 
of  course  among  them  the  "vine  and  fig  tree,"  Indispensable,  it 
seems,  to  "ye  olde  time  garden."  In  the  far  corner  a  tall,  magni- 
ficent magnolia  grandlflora  planted  In  1807  looks  like  a  giant 
candelabra  shining  and  shimmering  when  it  carries  its  full  load  of 
pure  white  blooms  from  base  to  top;  then  fragrance  and  perfume 
spread  like  incense  all  through  the  garden. 

The  garden  seems  to  recall  the  life  of  a  hundred  years  ago 
even  more  vividly  than  does  the  beautiful  house,  and  to  speak  even 
more  eloquently  of  the  charm  and  elegance  of  the  ladies  and  gentle- 
men who  then  enjoyed  it.  The  fragrance  of  flowers,  the  ripple  of 
water,  the  witchery  of  half-concealed  marble  forms,  the  romance 
of  moonlight,  the  poetry  of  the  past  are  still  there. 

No  better  model  can  be  had  to  this  day  for  a  city  garden. 
The  ivy-covered  brick  walls,  the  arched  gateway  to  the  side,  the 
curved  and  straight  paths,  a  hedge  here,  a  clump  of  shrubs  there, 
an  archway  or  vine-clad  column  yonder!  The  trick  Is  turned, 
exclusion  in  the  midst  of  crowds,  complete  1 

Laura  C.  Martin  Wheelwright. 

[83] 


AN  OLD    RICHMOND   GARDEN 


N  the  good  old  days  of  Richmond  there  stood  on 
the  square  bounded  by  Franklin,  Adams,  Jefferson 
and  Main  Streets,  two  large  stucco  houses  sur- 
rounded by  gardens.  That  nearest  Adams  Street 
was  owned  by  Dr.  Robert  Archer,  and  the  other 
by  his  son-in-law.  General  Joseph  R.  Anderson, 
C.  S.  A.  Dr.  Archer's  house,  somewhat  changed,  became  later  the 
property  of  his  grandson,  Colonel  Archer  Anderson,  whose  wife 
and  children  still  own  it. 

Just  half  of  the  old  garden  remains,  with  its  primeval  trees; 
its  old  brick  walls  covered  with  ivy,  honeysuckle  and  Madeira  vine. 
There,  every  spring,  come  up  afresh  the  lilies  of  the  valley  from 
the  garden  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe's  foster  mother.  There  the  cow- 
slips and  peonies  and  Harrison  roses  bloom  today  as  they  did  when 
"old  miss"  (as  Mrs.  Harrison  of  Brandon  was  called  by  her 
intimates)  sent  them  with  her  own  hands  to  my  mother  so  many 
years  ago !  There  still  are  the  circular  benches  around  the 
enormous  trees;  and  there,  too,  bloom  the  honeysuckle,  microphylla 
roses,  mimosa  tree  and  so  many  shrubs  from  the  beautiful  old 
garden  at  Fortsville,  the  John  Y.  Mason  country  home. 

Fortsville,  an  estate  of  one  thousand  acres  lying  in  Southampton 
and  Sussex  Counties,  came  to  Judge  Mason  through  his  wife.  Miss 
Fort  (de  Fort).  The  oldest  part  of  the  house  was  built  of  origi- 
nal timbers  which  were  pegged  together  by  wooden  pins— having 
been  constructed  before  iron  nails  were  used.  The  garden,  too,  was 
old  and  unique.  A  centre  mound,  on  which  was  a  small  maze  of  large 
box  bushes  and  "grey  man's  beard" — I  always  likened  it  to  Rosa- 
mond's Bower — dominated  the  garden,  which  went  from  it  like 
the  spokes  of  a  wheel,  in  green  sunken  alleys  and  masses  of  flowers. 

[84] 


Lila  L.  Willia 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


There  were  snowdrops,  followed  by  the  grape  hyacinths  and  a  varied 
assemblage  of  old  favorites.  The  roses  were  notable,  even  in  those 
days,  when  there  were  so  many  to  "tend"  these  old  gardens  that 
they  flourished  like  the  proverbial  green  bay  tree;  the  yellow 
jasmine  twining  in  among  the  microphylla  roses,  the  thousand  leaf, 
the  musk  cluster,  the  Cherokee,  the  damask,  and,  above  all,  the 
great  favorite — the  moss  rose.  Who  that  ever  grew  up  in  a  Vir- 
ginia garden  but  knows  the  prick  of  a  moss  rose? 

On  her  return  from  her  residence  in  Paris,  Mrs.  Mason,  whose 
husband  had  died  in  his  second  term  as  Minister  Plenipotentiary 
and  Envoy  Extraordinary  from  the  United  States  of  America  to 
the  Court  of  Napoleon  III,  would  wander  through  her  beloved 
garden,  gloved  and  veiled,  giving  orders  and  instructions  to  her 
train  of  ebony  gardeners,  whose  greatest  joy  was  to  carry  out  her 
beautiful  taste  in  the  garden  that  had  been  planted  by  her  great- 
grandmother. 

The  house  and  garden  of  General  Anderson  have  been  swept 
away  by  the  growth  of  Richmond,  and  on  their  site  stands  today 
the  Jefferson  Hotel.  I  have  always  understood  that  it  was  the  plan 
of  the  designers  of  that  hotel  to  leave  some  of  the  lawn  and  trees 
on  Franklin  Street  and  the  beautiful  row  of  horse  chestnuts  which 
bordered  the  pavement;  but  the  engineer,  not  calculating  on  the 
great  drop  of  the  land,  drew  the  plans  so  that  the  hotel  had  to  be 
put  on  the  line  of  the  street.  A  pang  shot  through  every  child  of 
two  generations  when  they  saw  not  only  their  playground,  the 
garden,  but  even  the  horse  chestnuts  go,  for  General  Anderson's 
pavement  was  the  roller-skating-rink  for  the  neighborhood  for 
squares  around.  The  delicious  odor  of  the  horse  chestnut  bloom 
brings  to  many  an  adult  mind  of  today  the  happy  skating  there  in 
the  springtime  of  the  long  ago.  And  with  the  thought  of  the  odor 
of  the  horse  chestnuts,  mingled  with  the  fragrance  of  the 
paulownias  in  the  garden,  comes,  too,  the  wafted  fragrance  of  an- 
other bit  of  the  old  South,  for  this  home,  its  owner  and  the  garden 
were  the  truest  exponents  of  the  Virginia,  the  Richmond  of  those 

[85] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

days.  That  was  "Aunt"  Elinor  and  her  room — where  every 
skater  was  privileged  to  go  to  repair  skates  or,  in  colder  weather, 
to  get  warm.  She  was  Mrs.  Anderson's  sempstress,  a  fine  example 
of  the  best  of  the  colored  race,  dying  from  a  broken  heart  a  few 
weeks  after  the  death  of  her  mistress. 

A  pretty  story  has  always  been  told  of  the  courtship  of  General 
Anderson  and  his  first  wife,  Sally  Archer,  the  daughter  of  Dr. 
Robert  Archer,  surgeon  in  the  "old  army,"  as  the  United  States 
Army  has  always  been  spoken  of  by  those  who  were  in  it  before 
1 86 1,  and  who  left  it  then  or  before.  His  home  was  in  Norfolk; 
his  summer  home,  Olivera,  was  where  the  town  of  Phoebus  now  is, 
but  he  was  stationed  at  Fortress  Monroe.  He  had  several  daugh- 
ters. Coming  into  his  home  one  day  he  announced  that  a  handsome 
young  lieutenant,  who  had  just  graduated  second  in  his  class,  en- 
gineers, at  West  Point,  had  been  detailed  there  to  build  a  fort  on  the 
Rip  Raps,  and  that  whoever  guessed  his  first  name  might  have  him. 
Sally,  not  quite  seventeen,  said,  in  her  gentle,  soft  voice,  "Joseph"; 
and,  in  reality,  in  a  few  months  she  became  the  wife  of  this  young 
lieutenant,  was  the  mother  of  his  children  and  his  devoted  com- 
panion for  forty-four  years! 

But,  to  the  garden  and  house  !  The  latter  was  a  typical  Colonial 
house  of  grey  stucco,  the  spacious  front  porch  with  its  Corin- 
thian columns  surmounted  by  the  Greek  pediment.  Through  the 
porch  passed  not  only  the  best  of  the  town,  but  also  "the  stranger 
within  its  gates" — for  this  home  was  known  during  its  whole  ex- 
istence for  its  unbounded  hospitality,  here  and  abroad.  General 
Lee's  frequent  visits  there  during  the  War  Between  the  States 
brought  happiness  to  all,  the  children  included.  His  love  for,  and 
recognition  of  them,  was  ever  present.  One  of  the  daughters  of 
the  house  tells  how  he  always  drew  her,  a  little  girl,  to  his  side  on 
the  sofa  in  the  family  sitting-room,  raised  her  hand  and  kissed  it 
with  the  affection  of  a  father,  the  deference  of  a  gallant! 

On  their  return  from  Europe  in  September,  1871,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Jefferson   Davis  and  their   family  came  directly  here,   and   Mrs. 

[86] 


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GARDENAND  RESIDENCE  OF  GEN.  JOSEPH  R.ANDERSON 


Lsupli    R.   Amk-rson,  Ji 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


Davis,  Winnie  and  Mrs.  Hayes  felt  it  was  their  home  when  they 
made  their  visits  to  Richmond  after  Mr.  Davis'  death. 

There  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold  visited,  and  a  long  list  of 
"worthies,"  never  ending. 

My  mother,  the  wife  of  the  oldest  son,  lived  in  the  wing  room 
toward  Jefferson  Street,  whilst  her  husband,  a  colonel  in  the  Con- 
federate Army,  was  at  the  front.  In  the  dead  of  night,  the  rest 
of  the  family  being  in  the  second  story,  she  often  heard  a  dis- 
affected slave  passing  coal  and  provisions  out  of  the  basement  door 
under  her  room  to  the  Northern  sympathizers. 

But  let  us  go  through  the  house  on  to  another  old-fashioned 
porch,  the  east  end  of  which  was  a  charming  greenhouse,  and 
thence  to  the  garden.  In  the  writer's  memory  it  was  the  more 
formal  terraced  garden,  at  the  end  of  which  was  a  long  line  of 
maple  trees,  back  of  which  a  grape  arbor  extended  the  whole 
width  of  the  garden,  thus  screening  from  the  view  of  the  house  the 
stables,  yards,  etc.,  which  opened  on  Main  Street — on  a  much 
lower  level  than  the  garden.  But  to  the  child,  that  stable  guarded 
so  closely  by  old  "Uncle"  Sam,  the  coachman,  held  delights  as  in- 
teresting as  the  garden.  The  tuberoses,  mignonette,  heliotrope 
and,  O,  such  tea  roses!  were  beautiful,  but  the  glamour  of  the  big 
old  landau,  the  victoria,  the  glittering  silver-mounted  harness,  the 
spirited  horses!  To  penetrate  there  spelled  heaven  to  the  childish 
mind. 

The  accompanying  picture  only  gives  a  poor  view  of  one  of  the 
four  terraces  which  formed  the  garden,  and  no  idea  of  the  long 
side  lawn  extending  from  Franklin  to  Main  Street.  But  it  does 
show  some  of  the  trees  of  the  original  garden — the  lindens  and  the 
paulownias.  This  view  was  taken  after  the  death  of  General  An- 
derson and  when  the  property  had  been  sold  to  give  way  to  the 
Jefferson  Hotel.  And  the  borders,  etc.,  look  in  it  little  as  they 
had  under  the  care  of  my  grandmother.  One  hears  much  now  of 
the  "Newport  Pink"  and  such  "novelties"  of  these  days.  There 
used  to  be  always  planted  there  thick  masses  of  geranium,  just  the 

[87] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

same  shade  as  Newport  Pink,  with  corresponding  masses  of  helio- 
trope. The  English  gardener  and  his  greenhouses  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  garden  were  both  our  fear  and  our  delight.  A  lattice, 
weighted  down  with  clematis  and  Madeira  vines,  was  between  the 
mansion  and  the  servants'  quarters,  smokehouse,  the  kitchen,  those 
busy  hives  of  industry,  for  the  entertaining  was  unceasing. 

But  let  us  speak  of  the  real  garden — the  garden  of  my  father's 
childhood — "the  enchanted  garden,"  the  garden  that  refreshed  the 
heroes  of  the  Confederacy,  from  the  generals  to  the  privates,  who 
would  come  for  a  brief  visit  to  the  family,  the  recuperating  officers 
who  were  being  restored  to  the  Confederate  Army  by  devoted  care; 
the  garden  that  could  tell  of  many  a  courtship  and  many  a  heart 
pang  at  parting,  with  the  insistent  booming  cannon  of  the  Seven 
Days'  Battles  around  Richmond  calling,  calling  through  the  sylvan 
peace  of  this  old-fashioned  Virginia  garden!  In  the  happier  days, 
the  children  and  grandchildren  and  all  the  neighborhood  held  here 
their  "Queen  of  May"  and  "Sleeping  Beauty"  and  such  old  English 
delights,  while  the  garden  for  all  time  was  the  playground  for 
many  generations  of  children  and  their  friends.  The  plan  of  this 
garden  is  given  here.  As  I  have  already  said,  it  adjoined  the  resi- 
dence and  garden  of  my  great-grandfather,  afterwards  my  father's. 
It  was,  therefore,  more  than  half  of  a  city  square.  The  garden 
was  in  four  divisions.  First,  you  entered  it  from  the  back  porch 
by  steps  to  a  gravel  walk  running  parallel  with  the  house.  The 
main  arteries  of  the  garden  were  of  gravel,  the  walks  or  paths 
around  the  flower  beds,  bordered  each  side  with  box  bushes,  and 
through  the  vegetable  plots,  were  of  grass.  The  upper  part  of 
the  garden  was  given  over  to  grass.  Here  was  the  lawn  dotted  with 
peach,  apple,  plum  grafted  with  apricot,  and  cherry,  holly  and  elm 
trees,  while  a  gravel  walk  cut  out  of  this  lawn  a  circle  of  grass 
where  the  beautiful  paulownias,  whose  purple  blooms  exhaling  such 
fragrance,  one  of  the  glories  of  the  springtime,  stood  in  sovereign 
majesty.  Then  came  the  hedge,  four  feet  wide,  six  feet  high,  of 
coral   honeysuckle   and  hawthorn    (that  "oped   In  the   month   of 

[88] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


May")  separating  this  lawn  from  the  flower  garden.  To  the  east 
were  the  rosebushes,  with  a  famous  old  microphylla  known  far  and 
wide,  the  flowering  shrubs,  pyrus  japonica,  calycanthus,  crepe 
myrtle,  bridal  wreath  and  mock  orange,  lilac  and  snowball,  then 
the  bowknots  of  flowers  as  they  came  in  season — tulips,  hyacinths, 
lilies  of  the  valley,  pinks,  heartsease  (the  name  pansy  was  not  the 
name  in  those  days  for  these  old  favorites),  ageratum,  verbenas, 
geraniums,  heliotrope,  mignonette,  etc. — flowers,  old-fashioned, 
simple,  true,  like  everything  else  here. 

In  the  centre  of  each  knot,  stood  a  stately  evergreen,  the  box- 
edged  grass  walks  radiating  from  it;  each  flower  border,  too,  having 
a  narrow  grass  walk  around  it,  bordered  each  side  by  the  box. 

The  rare  cactus,  lemon  trees,  cape  jessamine,  japonicas  or 
camelias  of  such  waxen  beauty,  from  the  greenhouses,  were  massed 
around  the  porches  of  the  house  in  summer;  but  in  the  garden  itself 
there  were  no  forced  flowers  or  shrubs — none  not  indigenous  to  the 
place,  and  consequently  everything  grew  luxuriantly.  Then  another 
hedge,  six  feet  high,  four  feet  wide — but  this  was  of  althea — often 
said  in  old  Virginia  to  be  the  "Rose  of  Sharon."  Beyond  this  hedge 
were  the  vegetable  plots,  grass  walks  running  across,  gravel  walks 
running  lengthwise,  bordered  with  currants,  gooseberries  and  rasp- 
berries, with  stately  apple  and  damson  trees  marching  along.  To 
the  east  wall  of  the  garden  grew  the  ravishing  fig  bushes — the 
delight  of  all,  young  and  old.  As  Main  Street  was  neared,  a  part 
of  the  garden  was  latticed  off  for  the  stable,  yards,  etc.,  while  the 
fruit  trees  and  vegetables  held  sway  on  one  side  full  to  the  street. 
If  to  live  in  the  memory  of  our  friends  is  not  to  die,  then  the 
gracious  owners  of  this  home  live  on — for  their  personality,  their 
delightful  hospitality,  the  dignified  simple  luxury  of  their  home 
and  garden,  will  never  be  forgotten  by  any  who  knew  them. 

Inter  folias  fructus. 
Mary  Mason  Anderson  Williams. 

[89] 


BROOK    HILL 

OMPARED  with  Brook  Hill  house,  the  main 
Brook  Hill  garden — "the  Big  Garden"  as  it  is 
called — is  a  very  recent  affair.  Originally,  the 
vegetable  garden  lay  just  north  of  the  house  on  a 
large,  level  lawn.  Within  the  last  few  years,  the 
pear  trees  that  used  to  be  in  this  garden  were  still 
producing  fruit,  and  the  almost  imperishable  jonquil  bulbs — in  spite 
of  browsing  cows  and  ruthless  lawn  mowers — fought  their  way 
along  for  twenty-five  years  after  the  garden  was  moved. 

Before  1850  this  garden  was  transferred  to  a  location  of  extra- 
ordinary beauty.  It  now  lies  on  the  crest  of  a  sharply  sloping  hill 
with  a  charming  view  across  trees  and  meadows  to  the  north.  To 
the  south  and  east,  at  some  small  distance,  lie  "the  woods,"  which 
have  never  been  slaughtered  for  fuel,  and  in  whose  keeping  stand 
beeches  of  immemorial  age. 

The  site  of  the  garden,  in  truth,  should  have  been  the  site  of 
the  house  itself.  Yet  so  beautifully  is  it  located  that  one  is  apt  to 
forget  in  its  contemplation  that  this  particular  site  could  have  been 
used  for  any  other  purpose.  Entering  by  a  gateway  cut  through 
an  arching  hedge,  the  grass-edged  walk  runs  straight  for  a  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  or  more.  On  either  side  are  deep  beds  of  flowers, 
so  designed  that  each  season,  from  the  earliest 

"Daffodils 
That  come  before  the  swallows  dare  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty," 

to  the  last  Michaelmas  daisy,  has  each  its  own  peculiar  gonfalon 
of  flowers. 

Perhaps  the  most  gorgeous  period  is  when  the  Harrisonii  roses 
are  in  bloom.  Then  it  seems  as  if  a  field  of  the  cloth-of-gold  itself 
were  spread  in  waving  welcome. 

[90] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


Behind  the  flowers  stand  grape  trellises,  and  then  the  useful, 
but  not  decorative,  plots  where  grow  beets,  radishes,  celery,  aspa- 
ragus, and  that  celebrated  tuber  which  has  been  so  justly  called 
"the  unostentatious  po-ta-to." 

There  was  a  day  when  damsons  were  in  this  garden;  now  only 
the  apricot,  peach  and  pear  trees  survive.  The  apple  trees  of 
fifty  years  ago  no  longer  furnish  even  practice  grounds  for  sap- 
suckers.  But  the  intimate  violet,  in  its  ever-enlarging  beds,  has 
thriven  and  multiplied,  while  the  great  trees  died. 

The  garden  itself  is  a  rough  oval  traversed  by  two  walks  on 
different  levels,  one  of  grass  and  the  other,  gravel.  Across  these 
at  right  angles,  under  a  rose  arbor,  runs  a  transverse  allee.  Around 
the  whole  garden,  just  inside  the  hedge,  is  another  walk  that  is 
purely  utilitarian.  In  this  garden  are  "the  new  hothouses"  as  they 
were  called — sixty  years  ago — the  old  hothouses  stand  much  nearer 
to  the  house  itself  in  the  "Little  Garden." 

•  The  date  of  the  latter  is  unknown,  but  a  colossal  magnolia,  glori- 
ous in  its  symmetry,  has  spread,  from  generation  to  generation,  its 
great  trailing  limbs,  and  speaks  of  an  age  that  really  surpasses 
mere  dates.  The  "little  garden"  is  just  for  roses,  and  three  great 
magnolias;  true,  there  are  two  immense  willow  oaks  on  its  south 
border,  and  flowering  almonds,  which  look  very  modern  in  the 
presence  of  the  old  trees,  stand  on  the  edge  of  the  central  grass 
plot.  This  garden  is  a  rough  circle.  On  the  side  nearest  the  man- 
sion is  an  iron  fence,  now  arbored  with  trailing  roses;  within  the 
fence  are  rosebeds,  then  comes  a  narrow  walk  that  runs  around  the 
whole.  Within  this  walk  stand  two  great  magnolias,  and  one 
magnolia  grandiflora;  there  are  rosebeds  in  this  grass  plot,  too. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  garden  are  three  hothouses,  one  of 
which  has  been  there  for  seventy-five  or  eighty  years;  the  other 
two  are  forty  years  old. 

Just  east  of  the  garden  stands  a  group  of  magnificent  ever- 
greens, under  whose  peaceful  keeping  lie  the  bodies  of  the  ancestors 
of  the  present  owners  of  Brook  Hill.     The  whole  effect,   in  its 

[91] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

tranquility  and  detachment,  reminds  one  strongly  of  Von  Boeck- 
lein's  "Sanctuary  by  the  Sea."  There  are  no  fountains,  and  there 
is  no  glint  of  water,  but  the  grass  waves  of  a  wide  lawn  roll  to  the 
very  verge  of  the  garden  where  stand,  like  protecting  sentinels, 
the  great  trees  planted  in  other  days  by  those  who  had  faith  in 
the  power  of  gardens. 

John  Stewart  Bryan. 


[92] 


Lila  L.  William-^ 


HICKORY   HILL 


HE  plantation  known  as  Hickory  Hill,  home  of 
the  late  Williams  Carter  Wickham,  Brigadier- 
General  of  Cavalry,  C.  S.  A.,  is  situated  in  the 
County  of  Hanover,  twenty  miles  north  of  Rich- 
mond. It  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Carter 
family  the  2nd  of  March,  1734,  and  was  long  an 
appendage  to  Shirley  on  the  James. 

The  house  was  built  and  the  garden  begun  in  1820,  when 
William  Fanning  Wickham,  son  of  John  Wickham,  of  Richmond, 
aad  his  wife,  Ann  Carter,  of  Shirley,  made  their  home  on  her  share 
of  the  estate  inherited  from  her  father,  Robert  (after  whom  Gen- 
eral Lee  was  named),  son  of  Charles,  son  of  John,  son  of  Robert 
Carter,  of  Corotoman,  known  as  the  "King."  The  house  was 
destroyed  by  fire  in  1875  and  the  present  dwelling  then  erected. 

The  grounds  surrounding  the  house  were  laid  out  in  1820  on 
broad  and  long  lines  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  F.  Wickham. 
The  avenues  of  cedar  trees,  cedar  hedges  and  boxwood  hedges,  as 
originally  planned,  are  still  standing  and  have  excited  the  admira- 
tion of  many.  The  feature  of  the  home  is  the  old  pleasaunce 
with  its  tall,  stately  trees — its  roses  and  violets,  its  arbors,  avenues 
and  terraces — the  emerald  of  its  broad  stretches  of  grass  and  its 
matchless  boxtrees  now  more  than  one  hundred  years  old. 

The  pleasure  garden  is  a  rectangular  plot  of  ground,  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty-five  feet  by  four  hundred  and  forty  feet,  containing 
approximately  four  acres,  to  which  adjoins  the  vegetable  garden 
of  approximately  two  acres.  Its  central  glory  is  "the  box-walk" — 
an  avenue  of  the  Sempervirens  boxwood — the  trees  varying  from 
thirty  to  forty  feet  in  height,  extending  a  distance  of  three  hundred 
and  seven  feet  in  double  line  from  the  entrance  gate  and  forming 
a  perfect  arch  above  the  fifteen-foot  walkway.     At  every  season, 

[93] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

at  every  hour  and  In  every  weather  there  is  beauty — majestic 
beauty.  The  legend  is  that  the  small  bushes  were  passed  through 
the  hands  of  General  Wickham,  then  an  infant,  by  his  mother,  the 
creator  of  the  flower  garden.  It  recalls  the  dim  stretches  of  a 
cathedral  aisle.  Some  prefer  the  sunlight  percolating  through  the 
arched  branches  and  the  feeling  of  uplift  and  inspiration.  Those 
who  have  not  seen  it  in  a  light  snow  can  scarcely  grasp  its  fairy- 
like beauty,  and  by  moonlight  there  Is  romance  indeed. 

The  members  of  the  Philadelphia  Garden  Club  standing  at  the 
entrance  were  moved  to  silence,  and  one  of  them  sent  the  following 
lines  In  memory  of  their  visit: 


HICKORY  HILL 

A  Retrospect 

"A  dream  it  was,  a  dream  of  fairy  trees, 
Great  Box  trees,  bending  o'er  our  lifted  heads 
As  we  gazed  skyward,  through  their  bending  green. 
Or  looked  through  their  long  vistas,  ere  we  trod 
The  path  beneath  them.     'Twas  a  path  oft  trod 
By  courteous  and  by  gentle  men  and  dames 
This  hundred  years  which  have  so  changed  our  world. 
Its  Season-changing  beauty,  new  to  us. 
Yet  dear  from  just  one  seeing,  is  to  them 
A  heart-close  tie,  to  tie  and  bind  them  fast 
In  deeper  love  and  bond  to  that  dear  home. 
Where  even  those  who  serve,  both  serve  and  love. 
Nine  times  has  dusky  father  left  to  son, 
And  he  to  son  or  grandson  of  his  line, 
Duty  of  service  to  this  blood  and  place; 
Nor  could  war  break  nor  freedom's  call  could  win 
These  from  their  loyal  service,  gladly  given." 

The  most  recent  poetic  effusion  inspired  by  the  box-walk  comes 
from  a  charming  young  woman,  who  looks  more  as  if  she  belonged 


[94] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


to  Watteau's  landscapes  than  to  Washington  Square  and  Greenwich 
Village.     This  came  with  a  New  Year  greeting: 

"I  love  your  Box  Trees !  taller  than  Pope  Leo's  in  the  Vatican ! 
His  garden  as  a  wonder  shown  no  Box  Tree  has  like  these  you  own. 
And  this  I  think  is  quite  a  pity  because  his  garden  is  so  pretty." 

Another  tribute,  dated  May  lo,  1920,  is  from  the  graceful  pen 
of  one  of  the  most  charming  writers  in  Virginia,  the  author  of  the 
"Commuter's  Diary": 

.  "I  have  just  seen  for  the  many  hundredth  time  the  most 
wonderful  of  gardens.  It  would  take  more  than  the  length 
of  this  paper  to  describe  it  properly.  It  has  a  century  and 
more  behind  it — the  roses  in  one  border  are  the  same. 
which  were  originally  planted  there  when  the  grandparents 
of  the  family,  as  a  young  married  couple,  established  them- 
selves and  made  a  home  for  themselves  and  their  posterity. 
There,  flowers  appear  in  all  due  seasons  and  a  well-kept 
greenhouse  carries  the  winter  plants  and  shrubs  too  tender  to 
stand  the  cold  of  the  open  borders.  Walks,  fringed  with 
lilies  and  violets,  gladioli  and  pansies;  trellises  covered 
with  climbing  rose-bushes;  rows  of  grapevines,  now  budding 
into  leaf,  abound  on  all  sides. 

"The  most  striking  thing,  however,  about  it  is  the  noble 
'box  walk'  formed  by  the  double  line  of  great  box-trees, 
beginning  at  the  entrance  and  extending  away  to  the  far  side 
of  the  garden,  where  a  green  bank,  bathed  in  sunshine, 
gleams  in  the  distance,  through  an  arcade  whose  graceful 
curve  reminds  one  of  the  arch  of  the  Natural  Bridge, 

"An  examination  of  the  individuals  composing  the  group 
now  bordering  on  the  century-mark  brightens  one's  admira- 
tion. Interlacing  branches  form  the  beautiful  arch  within, 
while  without,  the  massed  effect  of  the  rich-green  alignment 
mounting  heavenward  is  most  effective — each  tree  in  its 

[95] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

severalty  looking  as  if  it  might  be  a  Titan  among  ever- 
greens." 

To  the  right  of  the  entrance  gate  is  a  broad  walk  one  hundred 
feet  in  length  (leading  to  the  greenhouse),  flanked  on  each  side 
by  lines  of  suffruticosa  box,  beyond  which  extend  on  each  side 
formal  flower-beds  edged  with  dwarf-box.  Here  are  some  of  the 
original  roses  brought  by  Anne  Carter  from  Shirley  in  1820:  the 
Noisettes,  Champney's  Blush  Cluster,  Seven  Sisters,  La  Tourtrelle 
and  the  ever-blooming  Pink  Daily.  To  the  left  extends  a  small 
maze  of  box,  with  beds  of  lilies  of  the  valley  and  hardy  begonia, 
at  the  foot  of  tall  magnolia  trees.  The  inner  circle  of  the  maze 
contains,  carefully  cherished,  LaReine,  Dr.  Marx,  Baron  Provost, 
Rivers',  George  IV,  White  Rose  of  Provence,  and  other  old- 
fashioned  remontant  roses,  planted  by  Mrs.  W.  C.  Wickham  when 
she  came  as  a  bride  in  1848. 

To  the  left  of  the  entrance  gate  a  gravel  walk  extends,  three 
hundred  and  forty  feet  in  length,  the  first  one  hundred  feet  being 
flanked  with  formal  rose-beds  edged  with  dwarf-box.  Beyond  this 
is  a  series  of  rustic  arches  covered  by  climbing  roses. 

At  intervals,  and  on  both  sides  of  the  box  avenue,  other  broad 
walks  extend  through  the  garden,  some  at  right  angles  and  some 
parallel.  Along  some  of  these,  rows  of  raspberries,  gooseberries 
and  currants  extend.  Others  are  bordered  by  peonies,  phlox,  and 
iris,  while  scattered  here  and  there  are  tall  crepe  myrtles,  caly- 
canthus,  and  pyrus-japonica  shrubs. 

On  the  two  terraces  or  falls  (as  they  are  preferably  called), 
at  the  lower  end  of  the  garden,  box-trees,  still  higher,  cast  their  cool 
shadows  on  the  thirty-foot  stretch  of  grass  and  fragrant  shrubbery. 
These  are  closed  in  by  fences  covered  with  climbing  roses,  yellow 
jasmine  and  honeysuckle,  at  the  bottom  of  which  nestle  long 
stretches  of  iris,  syringas,  jonquils  and  periwinkle. 

Turning  to  the  left,  at  the  end  of  the  rose-covered  arches,  a 
broad  grass  walk  marks  the  southern  limit  of  the  flower  garden, 

[96] 


Box   Walk   at   Hickory   Hill 


Formal   Garden  at  Hickory  Hill 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


edged  by  a  new  box-hedge  recently  planted  to  screen  the  vege- 
table garden. 

To  the  right  of  the  walk,  we  come  to  four  plots  filled  with  pink, 
white,  red  and  yellow  roses  (called  "Credilla's  roses"),  with  charm- 
ing narrow  grass  walks  between  and  around  them.  To  the  north 
of  this,  we  find  eight  other  large  beds  of  white  American  Beauty, 
Paul  Neyron,  Hugh  Dickson  and  Soleil  d'Or  roses.  Beyond  the 
roses  we  see  a  curved  walk  around  the  "boscage,"  or  thicket, 
formed  by  a  mass  of  shrubbery — an  old-fashioned  tangle  of  lilacs, 
syringas,  yuccas  and  evergreens,  which  crown  the  garden  with  joy 
at  all  seasons. 

The  War  Between  the  States  caused  desolation  in  the  garden, 
but  General  and  Mrs.  Wickham  strove  to  keep  it  up,  the  General 
after  his  arduous  day's  toil  standing  on  a  chair  and  clipping  the 
box  to  keep  the  walks  open.  It  is  today  recognized  as  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  and  representative  gardens  of  the  Old  South. 

No  account  of  the  garden  would  be  complete  without  a  reference 
to  the  escape  on  the  23rd  of  June,  1863,  of  General  Lee's  youngest 
son,  Robert,  during  a  raid  of  the  Northern  troops.  When  General 
William  Henry  Fitzhugh  Lee,  at  the  time  desperately  wounded, 
was  taken  prisoner  and  removed  from  the  office  in  the  yard,  as  it  is 
called,  so  graphically  told  in  Rob  Lee's  "Recollections  and  Letters 
of  General  R.  E.  Lee,"  a  clump  of  box-trees  afforded  a  safe  place 
for  concealment. 

Twice  each  year  during  the  last  three  years  of  the  war  the 
contending  armies  swept  over  Hickory  Hill,  its  garden,  its  grounds, 
and  its  plantation.  Innumerable  raids  occurred,  and  once  the  Con- 
federate skirmish  line  fell  back  in  disorder  through  the  yard  and 
garden,  followed  by  the  enemy. 

Two  incidents  especially  stand  out  connected  with  General 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart — the  first  on  the  night  of  the  12th  of  June,  1862, 
when  he  left  the  head  of  his  column  in  the  famous  "raid  around 
McClellan"  and,  accompanied  by  Colonel  William  Henry  Fitz- 
hugh Lee,  came  in   to   grasp  the  hand   and  cheer  a   desperately 

[97] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

wounded  soldier,  then  a  paroled  prisoner  within  the  Northern 
lines,  and  to  say  to  him  how  much  he  regretted  he  could  not  have 
that  soldier  with  him  to  share  in  the  glory  which  he  felt  would 
crown  his  efforts. 

The  other  incident  was  on  the  12th  of  May,  1864,  when  Gen- 
eral Stuart  received  his  mortal  wound  at  the  battle  of  Yellow 
Tavern,  a  few  miles  south  of  Hickory  Hill.  The  soldier  above 
referred  to  led  General  Stuart's  right  wing  on  that  fatal  day. 
When  the  battle  opened,  the  wife  of  the  soldier  brought  a  chair, 
placed  it  between  two  pillars  of  the  south  marble  porch  and  sat 
all  day  listening  to  the  volleys  of  musketry  and  the  sound  of 
cannon.  When  evening  fell,  she  knew  by  the  approaching  sounds 
of  the  conflict  that  the  day  had  gone  against  the  Confederates. 

In  the  dusk  she  saw  approaching  the  body-servant,  whose  duty 
was  to  carry  the  fresh  horse  in  when  it  was  needed,  and  she 
recognized  him  as  well  as  the  horse  he  was  leading.  She  ran  to 
the  fence  and  upbraided  him,  asking  where  his  master  was.  The 
reply  was,  "Miss  Lucy,  I  don'  know;  the  white  mens  all  runned 
and  I  runned  too."  It  is  due  to  the  memory  of  this  faithful 
servant,  however,  to  say  that  he  did  not  tarry,  but,  endeavoring 
to  ascertain  where  the  Confederate  troops  had  rallied,  duly  re- 
ported under  fire  with  the  fresh  horse,  though  it  must  be  admitted 
rather  late. 

Many  gallant  gentlemen  and  gentle  ladies  have  graced  many 
a  glad  and  happy  hour  in  this  glorious  old  garden.  Many  boys  and 
girls  have  shared  their  joys  and  sorrows  in  it  in  the  past,  and  it  is 
fondly  hoped  many  more  will  in  the  future  bring  to  it  the  sun- 
shine of  their  charming  presence  and  merry  laughter. 

Henry  Taylor  Wickham. 


[98] 


An  Arch  of  Boxwood  at   W  ilUamsville 


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OT  far  from  Studley,  in  Hanover  County,  the  birth- 
place of  Patrick  Henry,  there  stands,  just  fourteen 
miles  from  Richmond,  an  old  homestead  named 
Williamsville.  It  is  worthy  to  take  its  place  in  the 
Virginia  collection  of  noted  homes  because  of  its 
beauty  of  location,  its  family  associations,  and  its 
historic  setting. 

A  recent  visitor  to  this  place  stood  on  its  lawn,  now  luxuriant 
with  the  shrubbery  planted  by  hands  of  long  ago,  and  looked  across 
the  hills  to  counties  far  away,  so  high  is  the  elevation  above  the 
surrounding  country.  The  view  reminded  her  of  that  from  the 
lawn  of  Monticello,  the  home  of  Jefferson.  Then  down  in  the  glen, 
just  outside  the  yard  gate,  may  be  seen  traces  of  landscape-garden- 
ing rarely  equaled  by  any  garden  in  old  plantation  days.  To  the 
rear  of  the  house  is  a  rustic  view.  Here,  the  boxwood  has  grown 
into  trees  and  forms  an  archway  which,  with  the  spontaneous  shrub- 
bery around,  makes  a  picture  of  rare  beauty. 

One  day,  nearly  sixty  years  ago,  during  the  sad  days  of  the 
War  Between  the  States,  two  men  stood  on  the  back  porch  of 
Williamsville  overlooking  this  very  spot.  One  of  them  was  General 
Winfield  Scott  Hancock,  of  the  Federal  Army;  the  other  was  Dr. 
George  William  Pollard,  the  master  of  the  house  and  plantation, 
which  had  been  so  cruelly  devastated  by  the  exigencies  of  the  war. 
Here  had  been  the  camping  ground  of  the  enemy,  and  here  and 
roundabout  had  been  the  battle  ground  of  many  a  hard-fought 
struggle  to  keep  the  enemy  from  the  Capital  of  the  Confederacy. 
"General,  will  you  not  give  orders  that  the  most  sacred  spot  of 
our  home  be  spared?  I  have  pleaded  with  your  subordinates  that 
they  do  not  build  their  breastworks  over  our  family  burying-ground. 
They  have  destroyed  our  garden,  the  pride  of  our  home  and  the 

[99] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

joy  of  our  family  life.  Will  you  not  see  that  this  last  resting  place 
of  our  loved  ones  is  left  untouched  and  unviolated?" 

General  Hancock,  afterwards  nominee  for  President  of  the 
United  States,  looked  out  upon  the  violated  beauty  of  the  rose-beds, 
the  tulip-borders  and  boxwood  walkways  of  the  garden.  A  wave 
of  tender  feeling  passed  over  his  sympathetic  countenance.  He 
said,  "Dr.  Pollard,  it  shall  be  as  you  request."  He  then  gave  orders 
that  the  plan  of  the  breastworks,  originally  meant  to  go  over  the 
graves,  should  be  changed  to  go  around,  and  not  through,  the 
burial-ground. 

Today  may  be  seen  at  this  spot,  where  the  breastworks  are  still 
in  evidence,  a  reminder  of  General  Hancock's  kindly  spirit  in  spar- 
ing to  posterity  this  hallowed  ground  untouched. 

But  what  of  the  garden  of  other  days?  In  looking  from  this 
same  porch  at  Wllllamsville,  one  may  see  through  the  boxwood 
trees  and  the  shrubbery  near  the  house,  the  remains  of  the  garden- 
acre  where  beautiful  flowers  once  blossomed  in  profusion. 

In  these  days  of  the  renaissance  of  the  gardening  art  in  Vir- 
ginia, many  would  be  interested  to  know  from  whose  bounty  and 
from  whose  taste  these  signs  of  beautiful  home-making  came.  Who 
did  it?  Who  was  the  builder  of  the  house,  and  who  were  the 
mistresses  who  made  this  home  one  of  the  show  places  in  the 
Old  Dominion  of  generations  long  gone? 

To  tell  the  story  of  Williamsville,  one  must  go  back  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  years,  for  in  the  bricks  over  the  front  door  we 
may  read  the  date  1803.  The  name  was  given  the  place  by  its 
builder,  William  Pollard,  who  owned  it  until  his  death,  in  1840. 
He  was  the  clerk  of  Hanover  County  from  1781  to  1824,  and 
succeeded  his  father,  William  Pollard,  the  first,  who  lived  at  Buck- 
eye, just  a  few  miles  distant.  It  was  William  Pollard,  of  Buckeye 
(according  to  William  Wirt's  Life  of  Patrick  Henry) ^  who  acted 
as  secretary  of  a  meeting  of  the  citizens  of  Hanover  County,  called 
to  pass  resolutions  instructing  Patrick  Henry,  delegate  to  the  Vir- 
ginia Convention  of   1774,  to  vote  for  the  independence  of  the 

[.00] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


Colonies.  A  section  from  the  resolutions  reads,  "We  are  free  men; 
we  have  a  right  to  be  so.  .  .  .  Let  It  suffice,  to  say  once  for  all,  we 
will  never  be  taxed  but  by  our  own  representatives.  .  .  .  We  will 
heartily  join  in  such  measures  as  the  majority  of  our  countrymen 
shall  adopt  for  securing  the  public  liberty." 

William  Pollard,  the  second,  was  born  in  1760  at  Buckeye,  and 
at  the  age  of  twenty-one  took  up  the  duties  of  clerk,  having  been 
in  the  office  with  his  father  since  his  eighteenth  year.  He  grew  to 
be  a  man  of  such  accurate  business  methods  In  his  work  that  he 
was  called  "Billy  Particular."  His  farm  at  Williamsville  of  over 
one  thousand  acres,  was  so  well  managed  that  he  became  one  of  the 
richest  fanners  in  Virginia  for  the  time  In  which  he  lived. 

William  Pollard  was  a  revolutionist  In  mind,  heart,  and  soul. 
Tradition  says  that  many  a  patriot  of  those  early  days  of  the 
republic  enjoyed  his  hospitable  roof.  Here  were  entertained 
Edmund  Pendleton,  first  judge  of  the  Court  of  Appeals  of  Vir- 
ginia, who  had  married  Sarah  Pollard;  and  also  Edmund  Pendle- 
ton, the  second,  colonel  in  the  Revolutionary  Army,  who  had 
married  Mildred  Pollard.  Both  were  kinswomen  of  the  owner  of 
Williamsville.  John  Taylor,  of  Caroline  County,  who  was  United 
States  Senator,  was  his  first  cousin,  being  the  son  of  Anne  Pollard, 
his  father's  sister.  These  were  all  members  of  the  family  group 
who  gathered  at  Williamsville  to  talk  of  political  affairs  when  the 
nation  was  in  its  Infancy. 

From  this  family  of  Pollards  are  descended  Senator  Under- 
wood, of  Alabama;  John  Garland  Pollard,  former  Attorney- 
General  of  Virginia,  and  Henry  R.  Pollard,  attorney  for  the  city 
of  Richmond  for  many  years. 

During  these  history-making  days,  Williamsville  had  two  mis- 
tresses— not  simultaneously,  of  course,  but  consecutively — for  Wil- 
liam Pollard  was  married  twice.  His  first  wife  was  Elizabeth 
Dabney,  widow  of  Isaac  Dabney,  and  formerly  Elizabeth  Smelt, 
whom  he  married  in  1786. 

The  second  wife  of  William  Pollard  was  Elizabeth  Shackle- 


[lOl] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

ford,  widow  of  Lyne  Shackleford,  and  formerly  Elizabeth  Dabney. 
The  Dabney  records  say  of  her:  "Elizabeth  Dabney  Pollard  was 
a  very  lovely  woman,  both  in  person  and  character."  She  was  the 
daughter  of  George  and  Elizabeth  Price  Dabney,  and  had  a  brother, 
Chiswell  Dabney,  who  was  the  grandfather  of  Chiswell  Dabney 
Langhorne;  she  had  also  a  sister,  Nancy  Dabney,  who  married 
Judge  Alexander  Stuart,  and  was  great-grandmother  of  Henry 
Carter  Stuart,  former  Governor  of  Virginia.  When  Elizabeth 
Dabney  Shackleford  married  William  Pollard  she  had  one  daugh- 
ter, Louise  Shackleford,  who  married  Colonel  Edmund  Fontaine, 
of  Hanover  County.  The  only  child  of  this  second  marriage  was 
George  William  Pollard,  who  inherited  Williamsville,  and  lived 
there  all  his  life. 

About  1840,  Mary  Peachy  Todd,  of  King  and  Queen  County, 
became  the  bride  of  George  William  Pollard.  She  brought  with 
her  much  wealth  and  many  accomplishments,  for  she  was  artist, 
musician  and  lover  of  the  beautiful.  She  found  at  Williamsville, 
the  inherited  home  of  her  husband,  a  situation  and  landscape  which 
could  lend  themselves  to  one  of  the  most  charming  gardens  in 
Virginia.  The  lane  leading  from  the  house  had  a  double  row 
of  shade  trees  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  was  a  joy  to  the  eye  as  a 
landscape  feature.  There  was  a  lake  just  outside  the  yard,  with 
an  island  in  it,  and  a  bridge  stretching  from  it  to  the  mainland. 
This  was  surrounded  by  luxuriant  shade  trees  and  shrubbery. 

At  the  back  of  the  house  Mistress  Pollard  set  apart  an  acre  of 
ground  and,  with  the  help  of  her  slaves,  she  planned  and  laid  out 
a  garden  of  rare  beauty  in  design.  Flowering  plants  of  all  kinds 
she  planted,  regardless  of  expense.  Boxwood  lined  the  walkways 
which  were  laid  with  white  gravel  and  kept  in  as  perfect  order  as 
in  a  city  park.  Summer-houses  added  picturesqueness.  These  were 
built  with  large  white  pillars,  upon  which  vines  and  roses  climbed 
in  profusion.  Inside,  were  floors  of  white  rocks,  and  seats  to  invite 
visitors  to  stop  and  hold  sweet  converse  in  these  surroundings. 
The  sons  and  daughters  of  this  beautiful  and  hospitable  home 

[102] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


cherished  this  spot  as  a  precious  playground  in  their  childhood,  and 
later  in  their  youth,  as  a  trysting  place  of  many  a  happy  friendship. 
Who  knows  but  that  here  was  made  many  a  pledge  of  troth  be- 
tween happy  lovers? 

Tradition  says  nowhere  was  hospitality  more  abundant  or  more 
cordially  extended.  In  this  home  were  entertained  the  Pendletons, 
Taylors,  Prices,  Fontaines,  and  Dabneys,  of  Hanover  County,  and 
later,  the  Todds,  Garnetts,  and  Fauntleroys,  of  King  and  Queen. 

These  were  the  days  of  romance  and  beauty  in  Virginia, 
when  plantation  life  was  happy,  luxurious,  and  artistic.  The 
master,  George  William  Pollard,  was  a  physician  and,  also,  a  man 
of  literary  ability.  His  war  poetry  was  especially  favored  in  the 
days  of  the  Internecine  strife,  for  Willlamsvllle  was,  at  one  time, 
the  tenting-ground  of  the  enemy.  Generals  Grant,  Hooker,  and 
Meade  took  up  headquarters  In  the  house,  ate  in  the  dining-room, 
and  drove  the  family  to  the  second  floor  until  the  Federal  army  left 
the  house  and  the  farm. 

One  of  the  sons  of  Willlamsvllle,  Bernard  Chlswell  Pollard, 
gave  his  life  to  the  Confederacy,  at  Spotsylvania  Courthouse.  His 
sister,  Ellen,  grieved  so  for  her  favorite  brother,  that  she  became 
a  fierce  **rebel."  On  one  occasion  a  Federal  officer  tried  to  get 
from  her  some  information  concerning  the  movements  of  the  Con- 
federate troops.  She  refused  with  such  defiance  that  he  pointed  his 
pistol  at  her  to  compel  compliance  with  his  order.  She  replied, 
"I  will  die  first."  This  same  officer  returned  next  year  on  a 
raid  and,  in  passing  her  front  door,  lifted  his  hat.  As  Miss  Pollard 
did  not  return  the  salutation,  he  remarked,  "You  do  not  seem  to 
recognize  me."  She  answered,  "I  have  no  acquaintances  in  the 
Yankee  army."  In  1866,  this  daughter  of  the  Confederacy  married 
Rev.  F.  B.  Converse,  editor  of  The  Christian  Observer,  of  Louis- 
ville. 

The  present  owner  of  Willlamsvllle  is  Harry  Todd  Pollard,  of 
Louisville,  but  it  is  occupied  and  cultivated  by  George  Wilham 
Pollard,  the  second,  who  has  reared  there  a  delightful  family  of 

[103] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

boys  and  girls,  the  youngest  of  whom,  Mildred,  presides  over  the 
home,  since  the  death  of  her  mother,  with  the  grace  and  hospitality 
of  her  forbears. 

Mary  Pollard  Clarke. 


[104] 


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Airwell,  Hanover  County 


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AIRWELL 


N  the  upper  part  of  the  County  of  Hanover 
stands  the  old  estate  of  Airwell,  an  original  grant 
from  the  English  Crown  to  Thomas  Nelson.  His 
grandson,  Nelson  Berkeley,  of  Middlesex,  built  the 
house  and  moved  thither  about  the  year  1760.  It 
is  interesting  to  note  that  his  direct  descendants  still 
own  and  occupy  the  place. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  bricks  used  in  building  the  house  were 
brought  from  England.  That,  however,  seems  improbable.  Not 
only  is  the  house  too  far  from  Tidewater  for  the  transportation  to 
have  been  practicable,  but  it  was  the  custom  for  plantations  to  have 
their  own  brick-kilns.  However,  the  Flemish  bonding,  the  ample 
thickness  of  the  walls  and  the  general  lines  and  proportions  of  the 
severely  plain  exterior,  give  the  dwelling  the  unmistakable  stamp 
of  its  early  period. 

When  Tarleton  with  his  English  dragoons  rode  through  the 
neighborhood,  on  his  raid  from  Williamsburg  to  Charlottesville, 
he  is  said  to  have  visited  Airwell.  It  is  certain  that  Lady  Berkeley 
(who  before  her  marriage  was  Elizabeth  Wormely  Carter,  of 
Sabine  Hall),  is  credited  with  having  refused  to  give  up  to  the  new 
county  commissioners  the  church  communion  silver,  which  was  in 
her  keeping  and  which  they  wished  to  confiscate  as  being  English 
government  property. 

This  silver,  which  is  used  when  service  is  held  in  old  "Fork" 
Church,  is  still  kept  at  Airwell  by  the  descendants  of  Mrs.  Berkeley, 
to  whom  Bishop  Meade  referred  as  a  "lady  of  dignity,  firmness 
and  authority." 

On  an  ample  lawn,  surrounded  by  trees,  Airwell  house  stands 
today,  a  monument  to  the  past.  In  1836,  it  was  seriously  damaged 
by  fire,  but  in  1845  complete  repairs  were  made.     About  twenty- 

[105] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

five  yards  from  the  rear  porch  lies  the  garden,  with  its  box-hedge 
on  the  north,  and  the  long  central  walk  bordered  on  either  side 
with  box,  syringa  and  pink  and  red  cydonia  japonica  (pyrus 
japonica),  with  an  intermingling  of  roses,  jonquils  and  violets.  In 
winter,  when  the  snow  falls,  the  box-bushes  look  like  huge  frosted 
cakes,  and  in  summer  the  syringas,  with  their  graceful  sweeping 
sprays  of  lovely  white  bloom,  remind  one  of  beautiful  brides. 

The  plan  of  this  apparently  simple  old  garden  is  found  to  be 
quite  symmetrical  and  satisfactory,  especially  if  considered  as  it 
was  originally  and  in  its  relation  to  the  "Great  House"  and  other 
buildings,  as  well  as  to  the  general  layout  of  the  place. 

The  garden  formed  a  part  of  a  well-considered  plan  of  the 
grounds  in  the  rear  of  the  house,  and  there  were  flanking  clumps 
of  tree-box  between  the  house  and  the  garden  hedge.  The  garden 
contained  full  half  an  acre  and  was,  and  is,  divided  in  half  by  the 
box-bordered  main  walk.  Originally  each  half  was  sub-divided  by 
cross-walks  into  four  equal  squares.  The  cultivation  of  these 
squares  was  done  with  spading  forks.  It  was  only  after  the  War 
Between  the  States  that  a  plow  was  allowed  to  enter.  That  marked 
the  end  of  the  sod  walks,  which,  by  the  way,  stalled  the  plow, 
until  the  grubbing  hoe  was  used  to  loosen  the  matted  grass-roots. 
Formerly,  a  hedge  of  althea  marked  and  helped  to  form  the  eastern 
boundary,  but  it  has  now  been  supplanted  by  severely  practical 
wire  mesh. 

On  this  side  is  the  grape  trellis,  extending  the  full  length  of 
the  garden.  Then  come  the  red  raspberries,  strawberries,  and,  in 
their  order,  vegetables  for  all  seasons;  for  this  delightful  old  garden 
is  a  charming  combination  of  utility  and  beauty.  On  the  south  side 
of  the  boxwood  hedge,  and  protected  by  it,  are  the  hot-beds  and 
cold-frames  for  lettuce,  tomatoes,  and  all  early  vegetables. 

In  the  asparagus  bed  of  this  garden,  during  the  War  Between 
the  States,  some  of  the  family  silver  was  buried  and  successfully 
preserved  from  the  temptation  of  "the  enemy,"  and  is  still  in  daily 
use  in  the  old  house. 

[1 06] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 


On  the  west  is  a  group  of  gnarled  and  twisted  box  trees,  pre- 
sumably as  old  as  the  house.  The  paling-fence,  on  the  same  side, 
is  bordered  with  masses  of  red  lilies  and  purple  iris.  Looking 
farther  to  the  west,  one  sees  the  family  burying-ground  where 
many  generations  of  Berkeleys  rest  from  their  labors. 

Less  than  a  mile  from  Airwell,  and  plainly  visible  from  the 
garden,  is  another  old  home  of  the  Berkeleys,  Edgewood,  which 
stands  in  a  grove  of  magnificent  oaks  and  poplars.  Here  may 
be  found  some  large  single  red  roses  with  wide  yellow  centers, 
which  are  known  in  the  neighborhood  as  "Offley  roses." 

These  roses  and  their  local  name  come  from  Offley,  another 
house  that  once  stood  not  far  away  on  a  part  of  this  same  Nelson 
grant.  There  the  widow  of  General  Nelson  took  refuge  from 
Yorktown  during  the  Revolution  and  made  her  home  for  some 
years  thereafter,  and  there  she  doubtless  gave  tender  care  to  the 
very  roses  from  which  these  come. 

With  this  in  mind,  one  naturally  feels  that  their  parent  rose 
in  all  probability  was  brought  from  Yorktown  by  their  mistress, 
and  cherished  by  her  as  a  reminder  of  the  fine  old  home  she  had 
left  down  by  the  York. 

Many  thoughts  of  bygone  owners  and  their  pleasure  in  these 
old  gardens  haunt  us  as  we  wander  through  them,  and  that  is  the 
reason  they  are  so  treasured  by  their  descendants. 


Lucy  Landon  Noland. 


[107] 


OAKLAND 

The  Thomas  Nelson  Page  Home 

HE  land  on  which  the  Oakland  garden  was  built 
was  granted  by  George  I  to  the  ancestors  of  the 
present  owners  in  1 7 1 8 .  Famous  Old  Fork  Church, 
within  the  walls  of  which  Patrick  Henry  and  Dolly 
Madison  both  worshipped  before  the  Revolution, 
was  built  about  1704,  just  beyond  the  eastern 
boundary  of  this  Nelson  grant  of  ten  thousand  acres. 

The  garden,  however,  did  not  come  into  existence  until  1812, 
when  it  was  laid  off  by  General  Nelson's  youngest  daughter, 
Judith,  the  year  the  house  was  built.  The  latter  married  her  cousin. 
Captain  Thomas  Nelson,  for  many  years  Collector  of  the  Port  of 
Richmond,  and  with  him  came  to  live  at  Oakland. 

The  grounds  of  this  historic  estate  slope  gently  from  the  house 
in  all  directions  and  are  bounded  on  the  east  and  west  by  flowing 
streams.  On  the  outer  side  of  the  western  line,  in  a  grove  of  noble 
trees,  is  one  of  the  far-famed  springs  of  this  section  of  Virginia. 
In  olden  times,  the  Oakland  yard  and  garden  contained  about 
four  acres  in  all,  surrounded  by  a  substantial  fence  of  cedar  posts 
and  square  oak  bars  placed  edgewise,  with  ends  let  into  mortised 
posts,  which  were  capped  with  squares  of  oak.  Inside  of  this,  a 
paling  fence  outlined  the  garden.  This  fence  was  flanked  on  the 
inner  side  by  the  pyr-acanthus  whose  thorns  were  a  terror  to  bare- 
foot boys,  but  whose  radiant  coral  berries  delighted  all  admirers 
of  bright  color.  Among  the  berries,  cardinals  and  thrushes,  the 
latter  then  called  "sandy  mockings,"  delighted  to  disport  them- 
selves. 

The  garden  was  In  front  of  the  house  and  occupied  the  southern 
slope  as  it  declined  gently  until  it  reached  the  slightly  rising  ground 

[108] 


Richmond    and     Vicinity 

about  two  hundred  yards  away.  It  was  elliptical  in  shape,  with  the 
broad  side  facing  the  house  some  hundred  feet  away.  The  entrance 
was  through  a  gate  which  always  brought  to  the  boy's  mind  the 
wicket  gate  in  "Pilgrim's  Progress."  Pyrus  or  cydonia  japonicas, 
with  their  rich  calico  colors,  grew  on  either  side  of  this  gate,  and 
almost  met  overhead.  Walks,  leading  lengthwise  through  the  cen- 
ter and  across,  gave  access  to  different  parts  of  the  garden,  while 
borders  for  annuals  and  squares  for  tender  plants  abounded,  con- 
venient for  the  mistress  or  her  daughter  to  plant  or  tend,  when  they 
chose  to  infringe  upon  the  domain  of  Nat,  the  gardener. 

As  the  fiery  acanthus  glowed  along  the  far  side  of  the  garden, 
the  rose  bushes  shone  as  the  most  noted  things  within  it.  They 
were  everywhere  in  almost  wild  profusion — George  the  Fourth, 
Giant  of  Battles,  Hermosa,  York,  and  Lancaster,  damask  and 
tea  roses,  and  even  the  Hundred  Leaf  and  Microphylla.  This  one 
came  from  Shirley,  that  from  Cousin  Anne  at  Hickory  Hill,  another 
from  York,  and  that  from  Aunt  Nelson  at  Long  Branch,  or  from 
Cousin  Thomasia  at  Mountain  View.  Cherished  above  them  all, 
were  the  Offley  roses — only  wild  roses  which  still  bloom  on  the 
tenth  day  of  each  June.  These  came  from  the  place  of  that  name, 
five  miles  away,  so  charmingly  described  by  the  Marquis  de 
Chastellux. 

Lilacs,  syringa,  forsythia,  bridal  wreath,  and  spiraea  ushered  in 
the  spring  with  all  their  wealth  of  flowers,  while  violets,  in  cold 
frames  and  borders,  with  hyacinths,  delighted  the  eye.  Jonquils 
popping  up  in  all  directions  gave  the  impression  that  the  latter 
must  enjoy  some  special  privilege  to  be  thus  breaking  out  of 
bounds. 

A  little  later  came  the  snow-balls,  and  then  the  poppies,  after 
the  peonies  had  gone.  Sweet  williams  and  wall-flowers;  nastur- 
tium and  alyssum;  phlox  and  pinks — not  then  called  carnations — 
all  had  their  place,  while  off  in  a  moist  quarter  were  gladioli 
and  lilies  of  the  valley,  about  which  Philip  Pendleton  Cooke  wrote 
in  "Florence  Vane." 

[109] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

The  fall  flowers  were  not  equal  to  what  we  now  have,  though 
many  roses  lasted  until  frost.  There  was  plenty  of  shrubbery  of 
all  sorts — sweet-shrubs,  and  honeysuckle,  white  and  coral;  yellow 
jessamine,  clematis,  and  even  two  or  three  fine  grapevines  which 
the  mistress  of  Oakland  had  planted.  The  grapevines  belonged 
more  properly  to  a  corner  in  the  vegetable  garden,  west  of  the 
house,  and  out  of  sight.  This  was  back  of  the  interesting  small 
buildings  known  as  the  "wash-house,"  "Aunt  Suckey  Brown's 
house,"  "the  other  house,"  the  old  kitchen,  the  smoke-house,  and 
"Uncle  Bulla's  house." 

Time  has  forced  this  old  garden  to  give  way  to  trees  and  lawn, 
but  many  of  the  shrubs  survive  to  define  its  former  locality  still  so 
accurately  remembered  by  some  who  walked  amid  its  bowers  and 
enjoyed  its  beauty  and  fragrance. 

It  was  at  Oakland  that  Thomas  Nelson  Page  did  his  first 
writing.  It  was  from  his  old  home  that  he  found  the  inspiration 
for  "Marse  Chan"  and  other  stories.  It  was  here  that  he  lived 
with  the  originals  of  "Two  Little  Confederates,"  and  it  was  in  this 
garden  that  he  dug  and  chopped  as  a  boy.  It  was  back  to  it  that 
his  memories  ever  reverted.  Just  in  reach  of  its  confines,  while  in- 
terested in  its  restoration,  and  transplanting  with  his  own  hands 
one  of  the  old  shrubs,  he  rested  from  his  earthly  labors  and  joined 
those,  who,  like  himself,  had  found  so  much  delight  in  this  old 
garden. 

RosEWELL  Page. 


[no] 


Thomas  Nelson  Page  in  the  Oakland  Garden 


Oakland,  the  Birthplace  of  Thomas  Nelson  Page,  in  Hanover  County 


The  Upper  James 


TUCKAHOE 


EN  miles  west  of  Richmond,  on  the  highway  known 
as  the  River  Road,  an  abrupt  turn  to  the  south 
brings  one  to  a  cedar-lined  lane  which  leads  into 
the  plantation  of  Tuckahoe. 

For  one  mile  this  double  line  of  cedars  stretches, 
and,  though  serious  gaps  have  been  made  in  the 
broad  avenue  by  time  and  weather,  the  continuity  of  the  evergreen 
trees,  through  successive  plantations,  is  now  unbroken.  The  oldest 
of  these  trees  in  their  lusty  age  extend  arms  farther  afield  than  in 
their  youth,  their  naked  trunks  standing  stiff  and  upright,  so  like  the 
pipes  of  some  cathedral  organ  that  one  would  not  start  at  the 
sound  of  deep,  reverential  tones  coming  along  the  lane.  It  is  most 
impressive. 

Down  the  lofty  nave  of  this  forest  cathedral  gleams,  at  the 
end,  under  the  open  sky,  the  old,  white  gateway  which  bars  the 
lane  from  the  lawn.  And  straight  ahead  in  the  distance,  upon  a 
little  rise  of  ground,  the  old  house  stands  like  some  fading  seven- 
teenth-century picture  shut  away  in  its  immediate  world.  Approach- 
ing it  through  the  old  gateway,  one  will  never  forget  the  picture, 
especially  if  the  season  be  spring.  Hoary-headed  elm  trees  and 
clouds  of  golden  daffodils  literally  surround  it.  Goldfinches  and 
mocking-birds  twitter  a  welcome,  and,  girdling  all,  James  River 
in  the  distance.  The  daffodils  bend  and  sway,  seeming  to  beckon 
one  nearer,  and  the  hospitable  face  of  the  old  house  wears  the  same 
warm  welcome  it  wore  in  colonial  days. 

Tuckahoe,  which  is  today  one  of  the  best  examples  of  the 
colonial  plantation  left  in  America,  was  founded  in  1674  by  Wil- 
liam Randolph,  of  Turkey  Island,  for  his  second  son,  Thomas. 
The  acreage  contained  originally  in  the  estate  has  been  placed  as 

[113] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

high  as  twenty-five  thousand,  and  it  is  said  to  have  extended  for 
twelve  miles  along  James  River.  The  place  name  was,  as  it  sounds, 
borrowed  from  the  Indians,  and  it  may  prove  interesting  to  trace 
its  origin. 

Purchas,  that  observant  historian  of  1626,  states  that  among 
edible  roots  known  to  the  aborigines  was  one  called  "Tockawaugh 
growing  like  a  flagge,  of  the  greatness  and  taste  of  a  potatoe, 
which  passeth  a  fiery  purgation  before  they  may  eate  it  being 
poison  while  it  is  raw."  Botanically,  the  plant  belongs  to  the 
arum,  or  lily,  family,  and  is  classified  as  wake-robin,  jack-in-the- 
pulpit,  and  Indian  turnip.  The  word  Tuckahoe  is  found  in  diction- 
aries, and  it  was  from  the  great  quantity  of  these  plants  growing 
along  the  streams  of  the  estate  that  its  name  was  gained. 

But  the  name  is  not  the  only  reminder  of  the  Indians,  for,  on  a 
narrow  arm  of  the  little  creek,  which  flows  through  the  plantation, 
may  be  found  the  well-preserved  remains  of  a  stone  basin  used  by 
the  red  men  to  pound  their  corn  into  meal. 

A  distinct  character  is  given  to  the  lawn  at  Tuckahoe  by  the 
many  fine  old  trees  that  shade  it — elm,  honey  locust,  or  gleditschia; 
willow-oak,  catalpa,  holly  and  dogwood.  Some  one  has  truly  said 
"The  man  who  plants  even  a  single  tree  does  a  good  work  and 
an  unselfish  one;  he  plants  for  posterity,  not  for  himself;  he  is 
laying  up  a  store  of  perennial  beauty  for  a  world  yet  unborn." 
This  comes  vividly  before  us  at  the  old  plantation,  and  sincere 
thanks  go  out  from  our  hearts  to  the  early  owners  who,  from  a 
background  of  more  than  two  hundred  years,  have  added  so  much 
to  the  joy  of  present-day  life  and  living. 

At  the  very  heart  of  the  plantation  stands  the  frame  house  of 
two  wings,  double  stories  and  a  great  hall.  It  boasts  no  pretension 
to  grandeur,  but  has  claimed  every  right  for  hospitality  since  its 
beginning.  The  date  of  the  building  has  been  placed  anywhere 
from  1674  to  1725,  but,  judging  from  the  character  of  the  carving 
upon  the  interior  woodwork,  the  dwelling  should  belong  to  the 
seventeenth  century. 

['14] 


The      Upper     James 


The  house  has  distinction.  This  comes  partly  from  its  paneled 
walls,  witnessing  to  the  good  taste  and  knowledge  of  the  builders — 
long  since  dead — who  placed  them  there.  The  two  wings,  each  a 
complete  house,  are  held  together  by  the  long,  wide  hall  originally 
intended  as  the  ballroom.  This  hall  is  one  of  the  features  of  the 
house,  which,  with  its  exits  upon  both  ends  and  sides,  may  properly 
be  called  four-fronted.  The  interior,  with  its  large,  square  rooms, 
engaged  the  attention  of  the  first  artisans  of  the  country;  the 
mantels  and  hand-carved  stairway  are  particularly  interesting. 

All  over  the  house  the  woodwork  is  elaborate  and  exceedingly 
good.  The  paneled  rooms  show  refined  cornices,  while  the  graceful 
north  stair  is  of  particular  note,  along  with  the  beautiful  treatment 
of  the  newel  post  at  its  foot.  Black  walnut,  mahogany  and  heart 
pine  are  the  woods  used. 

The  splendid  paneled  dining-room  still  speaks  of  the  presence 
of  century-dead  masters.  The  sunbeams  that  steal  in  through  the 
opalescent  window  panes  light  up  the  names  and  dates  thereon  as 
far  back  as  1779.  The  H  and  L-H  hinges;  the  heavy  brass  locks 
and  huge  door  keys;  the  iron  locks  showing  the  English  coat-of- 
arms  in  brass;  the  personal  reminders  of  Thomas  Jefferson  who 
lived  here  as  a  boy — these  are  among  the  many  things  that  make 
this  house  as  interesting  as  any  in  America. 

Straight  through  the  hall — from  river  to  road — a  vista  ends 
down  the  cedar-bound  lane  and  stretches  its  length  into  the  house 
and  out  over  flights  of  well-worn  stone  steps.  These  steps  now 
present  almost  a  dilapidated  appearance,  and  suggest  an  indifference 
on  the  part  of  the  owners,  but  they  are  really  carefully  left  that 
way  in  respect  to  their  great  age.  And,  as  if  in  a  like  appreciation 
of  this  same  age,  wherever  possible,  the  mossy  crevices  are  filled 
with  violets  and  ferns. 

The  exterior  of  the  house  is  unique.  Begun,  apparently,  as  a 
brick  building,  the  south  wing  has  both  ends  well  laid  in  Flemish 
bond,  as  if  the  change  to  a  frame  construction  came  after  these 
were  built.     The  north  wing  is  all  frame. 


[115] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

From  old  papers  and  documents  we  learn  that  the  Randolph 
family  lived  a  life  of  cultured  leisure  at  Tuckahoe  for  nearly  two 
hundred  years.  William  Byrd,  that  eighteenth-century  author,  wit 
and  aristocrat,  in  his  "History  of  the  Div^iding  Line,"  speaks  of  the 
place:  "I  parted  with  my  Intendant  and  pursued  my  journey  to 
Mr.  Randolph's  at  Tuckahoe,  without  meeting  with  any  adventure 
by  the  way.  The  heir  of  the  Family  did  not  come  home  until  late 
in  the  evening.  He  is  a  Pretty  Young  Man  but  had  the  misfortune 
to  become  his  own  Master  too  soon.  This  puts  young  fellows  upon 
wrong  pursuits,  before  they  have  sence  to  judge  rightly  for  them- 
selves. I  was  sorry  in  the  morning  to  find  myself  stopped  in 
my  Career  by  bad  weather."  After  a  visit  of  three  or  four  days, 
he  writes:  "The  clouds  continued  to  drive  from  the  N-Est  and  to 
menace  us  with  more  rain.  Therefore  after  fortifying  myself  with 
two  capacious  Dishes  of  Coffee  and  making  my  Compliments  to 
the  Ladyes,  I  mounted  and  Mr.  Randolph  was  so  kind  as  to  be 
my  guide." 

In  1782,  the  Marquis  de  Chastellux  wrote  of  his  visit  to  the 
estate,  describing  it  as,  "Tuckahoe,  on  James  River,  the  seat  of 
Mr.  Randolph  a  rich  planter  of  Virginia."  Chastellux  further 
tells  us  that  "The  Virginians  have  the  reputation,  and  with  reason, 
of  living  nobly  in  their  houses,  and  of  being  hospitable;  they  give 
strangers  not  only  a  willing,  but  a  liberal,   reception," 

And  Thomas  Anbury,  in  his  "Travels  Through  the  Interior 
Parts  of  North  America,"  published  in  1789,  says,  "I  spent  a  few 
days  at  Colonel  Randolph's  at  Tuckahoe,  at  whose  house  the  usual 
hospitality  of  the  country  prevailed."  He  then  adds  a  description 
of  the  house,  saying  that  it  "seems  to  be  built  solely  to  answer  the 
purpose  of  hospitality,  being  constructed  in  a  different  manner  than 
in  most  other  countries." 

But  the  old  home  has  had  it«  adverse  criticism,  too.  Not  many 
years  ago.  Professor  Edward  Channing,  in  an  address  before  the 
Massachusetts  Historical  Society,  said  "the  house  was  interesting 
on  account  of  its  architectural  features,"  but  that  "on  the  whole, 

[116] 


The      Upper     James 

Tuckahoe  only  reinforced  the  impression  .  .  .  that  Virginia  writers, 
through  ignorance,  probably,  have  greatly  exaggerated  the  social 
splendors  of  the  'Old  Dominion.'  " 

And  yet,  William  Ellery  Channing,  who  was  a  tutor  at  Tucka- 
hoe for  two  years,  speaks  with  pride  of  the  Virginians:  "I  blush 
for  my  own  people,"  he  says,  "when  I  compare  the  selfish  prudence 
of.  a  Yankee  with  the  generous  confidence  of  a  Virginian.  .  .  .  There 
is  one  single  trait  which  attaches  me  to  the  people  I  live  with  more 
than  all  the  virtues  of  New  England.  They  love  money  less  than 
we  do.     Their  patriotism  is  not  tied  to  their  purse  strings." 

An  interesting  feature  of  Tuckahoe  is  found  in  the  three-foot 
brick  walk,  which  encircles  the  house  and  leads  to  the  outside 
kitchen,  over  one  hundred  feet  away,  and  still  in  use.  The  archi- 
tecture of  the  house  permits  courtyards  upon  the  east  and  west 
fronts,  and,  upon  either  side  of  these,  clumps  of  boxwood  grow  as 
they  did  years  ago,  though  unrelated  as  to  family  and  newer  as 
to  age.  Over  the  west  entrance  a  gnarled  catalpa  leans  to  uphold 
a  crimson  rose  vine,  which  makes  it  look  "all  rose-tree."  Honey- 
suckle is  banked  against  the  brick  foundation  on  the  north  side; 
lilies — Hemerocallis  fulva — against  the  south.  And  to  this  wing, 
climbing  vigorously  to  the  second-floor  windows,  cling  multiflora, 
microphylla  and  pink  rambler  roses.  Nestling  against  the  south 
steps,  an  old,  red  rambler  reaches  up  to  the  paneled  ceiling,  which 
marks  this  portico  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  in  the  country. 

The  present  kitchen  was,  in  plantation  days,  the  Master's  office, 
the  original  kitchen  being  the  small  brick  building  in  the  rear;  and 
this  still  has  its  swinging  crane  and  old  Dutch  oven.  The  quarters 
are  still  at  Tuckahoe,  and  in  excellent  preservation.  The  smoke- 
house and  toolhouse  remain  as  they  were,  but  the  icehouse  and  the 
weaving-room  have  gone. 

Flanking  the  office  upon  the  east  is  the  inconspicuous  little 
building  where  Thomas  Jefferson  went  to  school.  Peter  Jefferson, 
father  of  the  second  president,  in  compliance  with  the  dying  request 
of  Colonel  Randolph,  his  wife's  kinsman,  moved  to  Tuckahoe  in 

[117] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

1745  and  undertook  the  guardianship  of  young  Thomas  Mann 
Randolph  and  the  management  of  his  estate. 

Below  the  schoolhouse,  jonquils  have  spread  into  a  veritable 
Cloth-of-Gold  field,  flinging  high  their  April  trumpets  above  a  mass 
of  periwinkle  blue  as  the  sky.  These  signals  of  spring  that  dance 
so  joyously  leave  the  memory  of  their  beauty  throughout  the  garden 
year.  And  there  are  so  many  varieties  of  daffodils  and  narcissi  at 
this  charming  old  place.  Beginning  with  the  short-stemmed 
Obvallaris  the  beautiful  Stellas  follow  in  profusion.  These  bulbs 
were  planted  long  before  the  days  of  the  Olympia  as  the  Golden 
Spur  and  the  double  sorts — Orange  and  Golden  Phoenix,  familiarly 
known  as  Butter  and  Eggs  and  Eggs  and  Bacon — will  attest.  But, 
daintiest  of  all  the  daffodil  family  which  blooms  at  Tuckahoe,  is 
the  delicate,  old-fashioned,  little  white  flower  known  as  "The  Lady 
of  Leeds." 

Scattered  about  the  garden,  and  all  over  the  lawn,  are  four 
varieties  of  narcissi — the  Polyanthus,  which,  though  in  the  minority, 
compensates  in  its  bright  yellow  flowers;  the  white  Biflorus,  and, 
most  pleasing  of  all,  Ornatus  and  Poeticus. 

Beyond  the  schoolhouse  comes  the  garden — the  real  feature  of 
Tuckahoe.  A  magnificent  elm  throws  out  its  arms  protectingly 
over  the  garden  entrance.  A  simple  wood  gate,  between  box- 
hedged  violet  beds,  leads  between  this  elm  tree  and  two  splendid 
specimens  of  sempervirens  boxwood  which  rise  on  the  other  side. 
Through  the  opening,  looking  east,  there  is  a  charming  vista  down 
a  turfed  alley  lined  with  old-fashioned  or  suffruticosa  box  and 
called  the  Ghost  Walk.  Shadowing  the  south  side,  a  row  of 
sempervirens  interlines  the  dwarf  hedge  rows,  and  stands  as  a  wind- 
break for  the  flowers.  Below  this  lies  the  formal  garden,  cut  up 
into  fifty-seven  "knots"  or  beds,  a  decorative  arrangement,  with 
paths  of  grass  intervening.  These  paths  are  so  narrow  that  only 
one  person  can  walk  there  at  a  time,  and  they  are  separated  from 
the  flower  beds  by  dwarf-box  hedging. 

Known  as  the  "maze,"  this  labyrinth  of  flower  squares  and 

[118] 


The     Upper     James 

ovals,  covering  about  one  acre,  proves  upon  investigation  to  be 
perfectly  symmetrical,  with  direct  exits  leading  from  a  central 
bed.  Bordering  each  of  the  fifty-seven  beds,  as  well  as  enclosing 
the  garden  plot,  are  hedges  of  suffruticosa,  which  average  in  height 
from  two  to  four  feet,  with  a  girth  of  sometimes  five.  Only  tall 
flowers,  like  phlox  and  hollyhocks  and  larkspur,  can  lift  their  heads 
high  enough  to  show  to  advantage,  but,  for  the  pleasure  of  such 
glorious  box,  one  is  willing  to  forego  many  flowers,  which,  after 
all,  can  be  had  elsewhere.  There  is  probably  more  of  the  old- 
fashioned  dwarf  or  suffruticosa  boxwood  at  Tuckahoe  than  any- 
where else  in  America.  By  actual  measurement,  if  lined  off,  it 
would  extend  about  eight  thousand  feet,  or  more  than  one  and  one- 
half  miles. 

The  beauty  of  this  box  garden's  unlost  configuration  is  retained 
with  its  early  and  remote  contours.  The  invincible  green  of  the 
box,  darkling  amid  and  above  the  flowers,  takes  from  and  gives  to 
them  the  cheer  which  neither  could  have  found  without  the  contrast. 
It  is  like  some  garden  of  sleep,  and  here  one  finds  rest  that  seldom 
comes  in  this  world  of  unfortunate  change.     The  spot  is  lovely 

enough  by  day;  but  at  night !     With  evening  there  comes 

into  the  Virginia  air  a  soft,  intangible,  poetical  dreaminess — a 
dreaminess  that,  with  the  fragrant  boxwood,  lets  the  Tuckahoe 
garden  smile,  even  in  winter,  without  any  abatement  to  the  effects 
of  summer  that  would  lessen  the  total  of  a  year  of  joy. 

Roses  grow  in  the  central  or  key  bed  of  this  formal  garden  and 
again  in  the  first  four  long  beds  around  it.  The  center  ovals,  also 
four,  show  in  sequence,  tulips — slate  blue  and  yellow;  cornflowers 
in  contrast  to  lilies ;  sweet  rocket,  and  last — phlox  drummondi. 

The  ovals,  which  radiate  from  the  central  bed,  begin  with  the 
Darwins,  ranging  from  pale  pink  to  purple.  Larkspur  follows — 
the  old-fashioned  kind — and,  when  it  blooms,  its  purplish  mist 
seems  to  envelop  all  the  garden.  Then  come  the  asters.  The 
general  plan  shows  every  plot  of  the  same  shape  to  contain  the  same 
flowers.     Another  group  has  iris,   peonies  and  chrysanthemums, 

[119] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

poppies,  delphiniums  and  phlox.  Digitalis  grows  around  lilac 
clumps;  these,  with  crepe  myrtle  and  spiraea — with  a  cedar  here, 
a  euonymus  there — appear  to  have  been  planted  to  point  up  the 
garden. 

While  the  box  maze  is  by  far  the  most  interesting,  it  is  by  no 
means  the  whole  garden.  Beyond  it,  on  the  east,  is  a  vegetable  acre, 
separated  by  a  line  of  forsythia  suspensa  and  bridal  wreath.  A 
slight  fall  drops  above  this,  bordered  by  a  scattering  line  of  briar 
roses,  where  the  half  acre  allotted  to  iris  begins  and  the  box- 
bordered  Ghost  Walk  ends.  On  the  north  of  this  lies  the  rest  of 
the  vegetable  garden,  bisected  by  iris-bound  grass  walks,  begin- 
ning beneath  the  shade  of  peach  trees,  to  end  in  the  shadow  of 
plums. 

Leaving  the  Ghost  Walk  at  abrupt  right  angles,  the  path 
broadens  to  let  the  eye  follow  a  second  walk  up  to  the  old  brick- 
walled  burying-ground  of  the  Randolphs.  Opposite  the  graveyard, 
extending  the  entire  length  of  the  turfed  walk,  is  the  perennial 
border,  where  a  chain  of  golden  cowslips  ushers  in  the  spring.  At 
the  back  of  this  flowery  border,  serving  as  a  screen  for  the  kitchen 
garden,  are  irregular  lines  of  flowering  almond,  lilac,  cydonia 
japonica,  calycanthus,  dogwood,  forsythia,  holly  and  Scotch  broom. 

In  line  with  the  boxwood  at  the  garden  entrance  stand  peach 
trees.  Scattered  among  these,  above  the  honeysuckle  hedge,  the 
ailanthus,  or  Tree  of  Heaven,  with  its  fern-like  foliage,  gives  an 
effect  of  almost  tropical  luxuriance.  One  receives,  upon  entering 
this  garden,  and  one  carries  away,  an  impression  of  sunshine,  even 
on  gloomy  days.  And  down  below,  upon  a  terraced  bit  of  wood- 
land, montbretias  or  blackberry  lilies  grow  naturalized. 

From  an  old  farm  record  we  learn  how  the  land  at  Tuckahoe 
was  tilled,  and  the  contents  of  the  orchards.  We  read  with  in- 
terest that  in  1850  it  took  between  sev^en  and  eight  hundred  pounds 
of  bacon  and  one  hundred  and  fifty-six  barrels  of  corn  to  begin  to 
feed  the  plantation  force  each  year.  At  that  time  the  estate  was 
the  property  of  Joseph  Allen,  and  he  it  was  who  kept  the  farm 

[120] 


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The  Cedtir  Lane  at  Tuckahoe 


ARBOR.   VITAE  HEDGE 


LAWN 


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VERS 

LAWAf 

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VEGETABLES 

APPLE      TREE5 


V£GE  TABLES 


VEGETABLES 
PEAR     TREES 


VEGETABLES 


GARDEN  AT  NORWOOD 


Jeverley  R.  Kennon 


The      Upper     James 


journal  and  planted  the  well-stocked  orchards  with  peaches,  apples, 
cherries,  apricots,  plums  and  nectarines.  The  plantation  book  shows 
the  plan  of  planting  and  lists  all  the  fruits  by  name. 

The  account  of  liming  operations;  of  sub-soiling;  of  fallowing 
the  various  fields,  is  given  for  the  years  from  1850  to  i860,  and 
proves  that  the  plantation  was  operated  upon  our  so-called 
modern  lines. 

Every  old  house  has,  or  should  have,  its  ghost  story,  or  its 
respectability  might  be  impugned.  And  Tuckahoe  has  two.  There 
is  one  tale  of  a  youthful  bride,  in  wedding  veil  and  satin  gown, 
wringing  unhappy  hands  as  she  rushes  along  the  Ghost  Walk  away 
from  the  husband  three  times  her  age.  Then,  there  is  the  story  of 
the  dainty  Little  Grey  Lady  who,  when  the  midnight  hour  has  come, 
steps  gently  out  from  a  cupboard  in  the  lovely  old  "Burnt  Room" 
to  mingle  with  the  mortals  for  a  time.  This  tale  tells,  further,  that 
it  was  through  a  dream  of  this  fragile  wraith  that  one  of  Tuckahoe's 
most  loved  chatelaines  was  brought  to  preside  in  the  home. 

Happily,  the  family  still  controlling  the  numerous  acres  of  this 
estate  is  by  direct  descent  the  same  which,  in  the  person  of  William 
Randolph,  established  itself  here  in  1674.  These  owners — Joseph 
Randolph  Coolidge,  John  Gardner  Coolidge,  Archibald  Gary  Cool- 
idge  and  Harold  Jefferson  Coolidge — are  grandsons  in  the  eighth 
generation  of  the  seventeenth-century  builder  of  the  house. 

The  place  is  full  of  gentle  memories,  and  here  one  finds  a 
restful  permanence  in  an  otherwise  restless  age.  In  the  quiet  old 
garden  the  flower  faces  that  look  up  to  cheer  us  are  the  same  that 
have  given  heart  and  comfort  to  generations  so  remote  that  they 
lie  half  forgotten  beneath  grey,  crumbling  stones.  Tuckahoe  has 
lived  through   the   centuries   to   stand   today  a    precious   relic   of 


Virginia  in  the  olden  time. 


Edith  Dabney  Tunis  Sale. 


[121] 


NORWOOD 

ORWOOD,  the  home  of  the  Randolph  and  Kennon 
famines,  is  in  Powhatan  County  about  seventeen 
miles  above  Richmond.  Its  two  thousand  and 
sixty-five  acres  lie  on  the  south  banl^  of  the  James 
River  for  about  three  miles.  It  was  originally 
bought  by  John  Heth,  the  great-great-grandfather 
of  the  present  owner,  Mr.  Charles  Randolph  Kennon,  in  1813 
from  one  John  Harris.  In  those  days  the  present  home  site  was 
called  "Greenyard,"  possibly  because  of  the  lovely  grove  which 
surrounds  the  house. 

An  extensive  addition  was  made  to  the  original  residence  in 
1835  by  Beverley  Randolph,  who  then  made  it  his  home,  he  having 
acquired  it  through  his  wife,  Lavinia,  who  was  the  daughter  of 
John  Heth. 

The  estate  remains  practically  unchanged  to  the  present  time, 
the  succeeding  generations  keeping  up  its  old  traditions;  Beverley 
Randolph  leaving  it  at  his  death  to  his  son,  Charles,  who,  dying 
unmarried,  left  it  to  his  sister,  Nancy  Kennon,  and  now  the  Kennon 
name  has  owned  it  in  direct  line  for  three  generations. 

In  the  olden  days  it  was  a  most  lovely  place,  with  its  imposing 
grove  and  beautiful  gardens  in  the  rear  of  the  house.  The  back 
was  separated  from  the  front  by  a  privet  hedge,  which  also  sur- 
rounded the  garden. 

In  front  of  the  house  was  a  large  park  containing  some  fifteen 
acres,  enclosed  by  an  osage  orange  hedge.  The  approach  was  by 
a  long,  curved  driveway  following  this  hedge.  The  front  lawn, 
with  its  beautiful  trees  and  grass,  was  separated  from  the  park  by 
a  semi-circular  arbor-vitae  hedge. 

In  the  rear  of  the  house  about  three  acres  was  enclosed  by  a 
privet  hedge,  and  was  laid  out  in  flower  beds  which  it  was  the 

[122] 


The      Upper     James 

pride  of  the  old  Scotch  gardener  and  his  six  slave  assistants  to 
keep  blooming  with  all  the  loveliest  flowers;  his  peonies,  lilacs,  roses 
and  many  others  too  numerous  to  mention  made  of  it  a  riot  of  colour 
through  the  seasons.  The  lower  part  was  devoted  to  fruits,  there 
being  grapes,  raspberries,  gooseberries  and  other  small  fruits  in 
profusion.  The  apples,  cherries,  pears  and  quinces  kept  the  table 
supplied,  and  in  summer  the  slaves  were  kept  busy  preserving  them 
for  winter  use. 

Though  the  ancient  glories  of  the  garden  have  departed,  the 
trees  and  shrubs  have  increased  in  beauty  through  the  years,  there 
being  at  present  some  thirty  varieties  of  trees  surrounding  the  house. 

In  the  winter  the  many  shrubs  and  evergreens  make  of  the  place 
a  veritable  "greenyard";  the  holly  trees,  of  which  there  are  twenty- 
three,  being  especially  beautiful  with  their  green  foliage  and  red 
berries. 

Though  the  arbor-vitae  hedge  has  long  since  gone,  many 
feathery  cedars  still  drape  the  lawn  with  their  graceful  forms. 

Through  the  years  the  old  plantation  has  kept  its  grace  and 
dignity  as  one  of  the  best  of  the  old  "before-the-war"  homes. 

Beverley  Randolph  Kennon. 


[123] 


ROCK   CASTLE 


W^^M 

1 

HE  plantation  on  the  upper  James  River,  in  Gooch- 
land County,  from  which  this  garden  takes  its  name, 
was  part  of  a  grant  of  land  from  the  crown  to 
Tarlton  Fleming  and  was  settled  between  1725  and 
1730.  Colonel  William  Byrd  in  his  "Progress  to 
the  Mines"  mentions  a  visit  to  Tuckahoe  when  he 
met  Mistress  Fleming  (born  Mary  Randolph  of  Tuckahoe),  who 
was  about  to  join  her  husband  at  Rock  Castle,  "thirty  miles 
farther  up  the  river,  in  a  part  of  the  country  little  settled  and  but 
lately  redeemed  from  the  wilderness." 

The  original  dwelling  was  an  English  cottage  of  weather- 
boarding,  high  brick  foundations,  enormous  brick  chimneys  and  a 
dormer  roof,  copied  from  the  south  wing  of  Tuckahoe,  the  Ran- 
dolph home  built  about  1689  or  1700.  Scottish  names  were  given 
to  several  of  the  plantations  in  this  vicinity,  such  as  Dungeness, 
Snowdon,  and  Ben  Lomond,  but  Rock  Castle  seems  to  have  been 
chosen  on  account  of  the  extraordinary  conformation  of  the  rocks 
and  cliffs  which  form  the  sides  of  the  very  high  hill  that  Mr.  Flem- 
ing selected  for  his  home. 

The  James  River  makes  a  bend  at  this  point  and  can  be  seen 
from  three  sides  of  the  grounds;  on  a  clear  day  towards  the  western 
horizon  stretches  a  long  range  of  outlying  peaks  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
presumably  forty  miles  away.  From  the  south  lawn  the  grounds 
slope  quite  precipitately  towards  the  river,  and  there  one  finds  a 
grove  of  handsome  trees,  huge  boulders  of  rock  and  a  natural 
cavern.  Many  generations  of  children  and  of  older  folk  have 
enjoyed  its  cool  shade  within  the  sound  of  the  rushing  water  of 
James  River  near  by.  The  grounds  on  the  north  and  west  are 
very  extensive,  part  rolling  and  part  a  handsome  plateau  planted 
in  English  elms  principally,  but  with  tulip  and  Lombardy  poplars; 

[124] 


w^^^w^ 


^  *' 


A-  '-v*^?-- 


I  >^  \r: 


>  «S£ 


A   Garden  Entrance  at   Rock   Castle 


The      Upper     James 

wild  cherry,  very  handsome  holly  trees  and  formerly  (before  their 
destruction  by  lightning)  two  magnificent  spruces. 

To  the  east  of  the  house  is  the  garden.  In  its  far  corner  a  giant 
elm  rears  its  stately  head  and  near  by  were  laid  the  remains  of 
Tarlton  Fleming,  the  first  owner.  As  years  passed  by,  the  Flem- 
ings built  a  larger  house  more  centrally  situated  to  their  possessions 
and  disposed  of  the  Rock  Castle  portion.  It  was  at  this  time  that 
Mrs.  Fleming,  accompanied  by  some  faithful  slaves,  drove  down  at 
night  and  had  the  body  of  her  husband  removed  to  an  enclosed 
burying  ground  at  Mannsville,  their  new  home.  Colonel  David 
Bullock,  whose  handsome  house  and  grounds  are  now  the  site  of 
the  Commonwealth  Club  of  Richmond,  was  the  next  owner  of 
Rock  Castle,  and  used  it  as  a  fishing  and  shooting  box.  In  spring 
and  autumn  many  of  Virginia's  notables  were  his  guests.  After  the 
death  of  Colonel  Bullock  the  place  changed  hands  several  times, 
the  Binfords  of  Richmond  holding  it  longest  and  then,  in  the 
forties,  it  was  purchased  by  Governor  John  Rutherfoord,  familiarly 
known  as  "Colonel  John,"  as  a  summer  home.  His  only  son,  John 
Coles  Rutherfoord,  was  so  delighted  with  it  that,  deserting  Rich- 
mond, the  place  of  his  birth,  he  made  Rock  Castle  his  permanent 
home  and  added  a  new  front  to  the  dwelling.  He  had  traveled 
extensively  in  Europe  and  was  a  keen  observer  of  architecture  and 
of  landscape  gardening.  The  latter  had  not  at  that  time  been 
much  cultivated  in  Virginia  and  it  was  under  his  supervision  that 
the  Rock  Castle  garden  was  laid  out  and  many  trees  and  shrubs 
planted  in  the  grounds. 

The  garden  was  very  large,  with  squares  for  vegetables  divided 
by  broad  walks,  and  every  sort  of  small  fruit,  of  berries,  of  herbs 
and  spices  that  could  be  grown  in  our  climate  were  planted,  as  well 
as  flowers.  As  you  entered  under  an  arbor  covered  with  roses, 
honeysuckle  and  star  jessamine,  a  broad  walk  opened  before  you, 
bordered  on  either  hand  with  blooming  shrubs  and  flowers.  Inside 
of  the  old-fashioned  white  picket  fence,  and  extending  on  either 
hand,  were  other  broad  walks  with  borders  of  shrubs  and  flowers, 

[125] 


(ma —  is??m 

Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

and  the  two  squares  next  the  entrance  were  laid  out  in  formal 
gardens. 

As  the  walks  extended  to  the  north  and  south  the  borders  were 
planted  with  fig  bushes  for  some  distance.  Then  followed  borders 
of  raspberries,  currants  and  gooseberries.  Farther  on  there  were 
quinces,  apricots,  nectarines  and  cherries,  and  there  were  two 
squares  planted  with  rare  peach  trees.  From  north  to  south  across 
the  garden  ran  the  pear-tree  walk,  a  heavy  green  sward  border  on 
either  side,  out  of  which  grew  the  carefully  nurtured  dwarf  pears. 
Then  there  was  the  long  grape-walk,  and  towards  the  eastern  side 
of  the  garden  was  its  most  interesting  feature,  the  cedar-hedges, 
one  plot  nearly  encircled  by  the  cedars  was  used  as  a  forcing  garden 
for  the  early  vegetables.  The  hotbeds  and  cold  frames  were  on 
the  extensive  eastern  slope  and  were  well  protected  by  the  hedges. 
There  were  some  unusual  shrubs,  a  very  handsome  Irish  yew  being 
of  special  beauty.  Multiflora  roses,  now  rarely  seen,  formed  what 
would  now  be  styled  a  pergola,  but  was  in  those  days  called  an 
arbor,  down  the  greater  portion  of  the  central  walk. 

The  forces  of  two  invading  armies  visited  Rock  Castle.  General 
Tarleton,  during  the  Revolutionary  War,  at  the  head  of  a  large 
cavalry  force,  swept  off  everything  in  his  course,  and  he  wreaked 
his  special,  petty  spite  upon  the  Flemings,  his  near  of  kin.  He  cut 
down,  with  his  own  sword,  from  the  wall  of  the  principal  room,  the 
coat-of-arms  of  Fleming  and  Tarleton  and  bore  it  away  with  him. 

Later,  in  1865,  a  marauding  company  of  Federal  cavalry, 
ordered  to  destroy  the  locks  on  the  James  River  and  Kanawha. 
Canal,  in  the  absence  of  the  Rutherfoords,  forcibly  entered  the 
house,  broke  into  the  wine-cellar  and,  despite  the  entreaties  of  the 
faithful  house-servants,  destroyed  everything  they  could  not  carry 
off  with  them,  leaving  a  desolate  house  and  no  provisions  for 
Mrs.  Rutherfoord  and  her  little  children,  who  returned  by  carriage 
from  Richmond  a  few  days  later. 

During  1 864-1 865  a  box  containing  jewelry  and  silver  was 
buried  by  Mr.  Rutherfoord  and  his  "head  man"  behind  the  hedge, 

[126] 


The      Upper     James 

and  careful  measurements  made  so  as  to  enable  them  to  locate  the 
spot.  Months  afterwards  when  the  war  was  over,  several  men  dug 
nearly  all  day  without  results  and,  just  as  the  search  was  about  to 
be  abandoned,  Mrs.  Rutherfoord  suggested  making  new  measure- 
ments, allowing  for  growth  of  the  cedars,  and  the  box  was  dis- 
covered well  under  the  edge  of  the  hedge. 

Near  where  the  giant  elm  cast  its  shadows  over  turf  like  that 
of  Old  England,  there  was  an  arbor,  and  many  a  love  scene  was 
enacted  there  during  the  seventy  years  of  the  Rutherfoord  occupa- 
tion. Behind  the  hedge,  under  a  great  hackberry  tree  where  the 
turf  was  like  velvet,  the  girls  would  spend  hours  sewing  and  read- 
ing and  the  colored  children  be  sent  to  remind  them  of  meal  times. 

With  the  passing  of  slavery,  the  heavy  pecuniary  losses  entailed 
by  the  War  Between  the  States  and  the  death  of  Mr.  Rutherfoord 
and  of  Edward,  the  "perfect  gardener,"  portions  of  the  garden 
became  gradually  much  overgrown,  while  the  lawn  became  more 
beautiful  as  the  trees  attained  full  growth. 

In  1908,  Mrs.  Rutherfoord,  for  more  than  fifty  years  the  mis- 
tress of  Rock  Castle,  passed  away  amid  the  scenes  she  had  loved  so 
well  and  under  the  old  roof  tree  which  her  kindness  and  hospitality 
had  made  famous.  In  1910,  her  daughter,  Mrs.  George  Ben 
Johnston,  took  over  the  estate  and  she  and  her  husband,  a  dis- 
tinguished surgeon  of  Richmond,  made  many  improvements  on  the 
farm  and  to  the  dwelling. 

They  employed  a  firm  of  Boston  architects  and  landscape- 
gardeners,  Andrews,  Jaques  and  Rantoul,  to  lay  out  over  again  the 
garden,  as  much  as  possible  on  the  same  lines  as  formerly  and, 
with  a  skilled  Scotch  gardener  to  carry  on  the  work.  Rock  Castle 
garden  took  on  new  beauties  and  was  a  joy  to  its  owners.  Dyna- 
mite was  used  in  many  of  the  squares  and  the  result,  as  shown  in 
the  extraordinary  size  and  yield  of  the  vegetables  and  fruits,  was 
a  proof  of  the  efficacy  of  this  treatment  of  our  soil.  Gourds  grown 
on  a  vine  were  so  large  as  to  be  regarded  as  curiosities  and  pre- 
served as  such.     During  this  period  our  country  was  again  plunged 

[127] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 


into  war  and,  although  no  hostile  forces  visited  Rock  Castle,  during 
the  summer  months  the  house  was  thronged  with  the  young  Vir- 
ginians coming  and  going  to  the  training  camps,  and  again  young 
couples  sought  the  garden-walks  and  exchanged  vows  of  love  under 
the  shade  trees. 

After  the  death  of  Dr.  Johnston,  Mrs.  Johnston  disposed  of  the 
place,  and  since  191 8  it  has  changed  hands  several  times.  The 
last  resident  owner,  Mr.  Henry  L.  Pierson,  was  killed  in  a  tractor 
accident  last  September,  and  dying  intestate  the  estate  reverted  to 
his  brother,  Mr.  Thomas  H.  Pierson,  of  New  York,  and  to  his 
sister,  Mrs.  Carlyon  Bellairs,  of  Gore  Court,  Maidstone,  England. 
Mrs.  Bellairs,  whose  husband  is  a  distinguished  M.  P.,  has  relin- 
quished her  share  to  her  brother.  In  the  near  future  other  strangers 
will  take  possession  and  feast  their  eyes  upon  this  rarely  beautiful 
landscape  of  which  a  convalescent  Confederate  soldier,  during  the 
War  Between  the  States,  said  to  Mrs.  Rutherfoord  on  being  sum- 
moned to  dinner:  "This  is  meat  enough  and  drink  enough  for  me." 

Anne  Seddon  Rutherfoord  Johnson. 


[128] 


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VEGETABLES 

GAT^DEN  AND  GROUNDS  at 

"ROCK  CASTLE" 


Andrews,  Jaques,   Rantoul 


ELK    HILL 

VERLOOKING  the  romantic  James,  where  the 
river  bends  on  its  course  to  Richmond,  forty-five 
miles  away,  lies  the  twelve-hundred-acre  estate  of 
Elk  Hill,  so  named,  supposedly,  from  the  number 
of  elk  that  once  grazed  here. 

Like  many  of  the  old  homes  in  Virginia,  this 
one  seems  to  be  resting  under  some  strange,  magic  spell,  which 
renders  it  impervious  to  time  and  well  content  to  live  on  with  the 
memories  that  lie  back  of  it — memories  which  link  it  to  other 
historic  homesteads  by  ties  of  affection  and  consanguinity.  In  its 
early  days,  its  isolated  situation  led  Randolph  Harrison  to  select 
it  as  a  home,  and,  after  nearly  one  hundred  years,  it  is  still  for- 
tunately sequestered. 

The  original  estate,  known  as  Elk  Hill,  contained  a  vast  number 
of  acres,  and  first  appears  in  history  in  17 15,  when  it  was  granted 
by  patent  to  John  Woodson.  In  1778  it  was  purchased  by  Thomas 
Jefferson.  After  various  changes  in  ownership  and  many  sub- 
divisions, the  estate  became  the  property  of  the  Harrison  family, 
from  whom  part  of  it  passed  to  Thomas  D.  Stokes,  the  present 
owner. 

The  house  was  erected  by  Randolph  Harrison  about  1845,  and 
is  structurally  very  substantial.  The  facade  is  dignified,  and  the 
effect  of  the  building,  with  its  white-stuccoed  walls,  set  in  the  center 
of  a  lawn  and  garden  numbering  ten  acres  in  extent  and  quite 
removed  from  the  highroad,  is  noble  and  hospitable.  A  small  and 
formal  portico  provides  the  entrance  upon  the  north  front,  and 
here,  against  a  western  column,  an  aged  vine  at  blooming  time  seems 
to  be  "a  close-set  robe  of  jasmine  sown  with  stars." 

Across  the  river  front  of  the  house  a  broad  veranda  extends. 
This  is  swathed  with  clematis  and  wistaria,  with  great  knots  of 

[129] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

hydrangea   otaksa  huddling  against  the  steps  which  lead  to   the 
serpentine  brick  walk. 

Many  and  pleasing  pictures  have  come  down  to  us  in  the  tradi- 
tions of  this  old  place.  As  court  days,  races,  social  or  business 
appointments  took  the  people  along  the  saffron-colored  road  up 
and  down  the  country,  they  found  few  inns.  Instead  of  a  tavern 
in  this  locality,  hospitality  was  always  sought,  and  found,  beneath 
the  spreading  roof  and  ever-open  doors  at  Elk  Hill.  The  spirit 
of  welcome  has  always  stood  at  the  gate  here  to  lay  hands  upon 
the  passing  stranger  and  draw  him  Into  the  green-shuttered  house. 
This  has  been  noteworthy  even  in  a  State  renowned  for  good  cheer 
and  social  graces.  Neighbors,  friends  and  strangers  have  always 
found  a  royal  welcome  in  this  fine  old  Virginia  home. 

The  interior  of  the  house,  with  its  paneled  door  casements 
and  wainscoat  moulding  carved  in  a  design  of  classic  detail;  the 
pure  Grecian  carving  in  the  drawing-room  showing  the  egg  and 
dart  motif,  and  the  remarkably  high-pitched  ceilings,  place  the 
building  among  the  best  of  its  type  in  the  country.  A  large  living- 
room  occupies  the  width  and  depth  of  the  house  on  the  south  end 
at  the  rear  of  the  entrance  hall.  Here  the  most  interesting  object 
is  the  mantel  of  Pavanazzo  marble.  Most  of  the  doors  are  opened 
by  silver  knobs;  slat  inner  doors,  that  Interesting  detail  of  the  best 
Southern  houses  of  the  early  period,  lend  coolness  in  the  summer 
and  ventilation  all  the  year.  The  first-floor  halls  and  rooms  are 
lighted  by  beautiful  chandeliers  of  bronze  which  once  hung  in  a 
famous  old  house  in  Richmond. 

The  lawn  is  studded  with  many  elm  trees.  These,  In  May,  look 
as  if  some  fairy  had  touched  their  brown  branches  with  a  shimmer 
of  green  and  gold.  Other  trees  are  here,  too — birch,  poplar  and 
ash,  chestnut,  pecan  and  mahogany.  Beneath  the  shade  of  one  of 
the  poplars — which  boasts  a  circumference  of  twenty-one  feet — Gen- 
eral LaFayette  Is  said  to  have  made  his  camp. 

■  Scattered  In  clumps  about  the  broad  lawn,  between  skyward- 

[130] 


The      Upper     James 


reaching  magnolias   and  long-lived   forest  trees — some   wrapped, 
trunk  and  bough,  in  ivy — are  a  wide  variety  of  shrubs. 

The  garden  is  approached  over  the  serpentine  brick  walk  which 
leads  across  the  lawn  from  the  south  porch.  Sempervirens  box- 
wood, eighteen  inches  in  height,  follows  the  walk  along  both  sides. 
It  is  noteworthy  that  the  six  hundred  and  eighty-five  specimens 
hedging  the  bricks  were  propagated  at  Elk  Hill  by  Mrs.  Stokes. 
Her  hand  also  planted  many  of  the  shrubs  and  flowering  trees  that 
in  the  spring  make  of  the  place  a  double  garden— half  hanging, 
almost,  in  the  air — the  other  half  under  foot.  She  was  the  presid- 
ing spirit  who,  short-handed  at  times  during  our  day,  yet  continued 
to  add  so  much  to  the  old-fashioned  beauty  of  the  place  by  skill, 
personal  care  and  indefatigable  zeal.  In  a  paper  read  some  years 
ago  before  the  James  River  Garden  Club,  Mrs.  Stokes  told  the 
secret  of  her  success  with  box. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  very  briefly  just  what  I  did  in  growing 
my  boxwood,"  she  said.  "I  took  a  square  In  my  vegetable  garden, 
had  it  deeply  plowed  and  laid  off  In  rows  three  feet  apart.  I  opened 
the  rows,  mixed  the  soil  with  thoroughly  well-rotted  cow-pen 
manure,  leaving  the  surface  flat.  I  then  broke  off  pieces  from 
four  to  five  Inches  from  a  hedge  box  In  my  flower  garden,  being  sure 
each  piece  was  pronged  instead  of  being  straight,  as  a  root  puts  out 
much  quicker  from  a  pronged  slip.  I  set  the  slips  four  inches 
apart  in  the  rows,  covering  them  so  that  only  two  Inches  showed 
above  ground.  These  slips  were  put  out  In  November,  19 13 — 
four  thousand  of  them.  The  first  winter  I  cut  just  the  tips  from 
each  slip,  laying  pine  brush  between  the  rows  to  break  the  wind, 
as  nothing  is  so  disastrous  to  slips  rooting  as  being  blown  to  and 
fro  by  the  wind.  By  the  ist  of  April,  1914,  I  could  not  tell  from 
appearances  whether  rooting  had  taken  place  or  the  shps  were  dead, 
but,  on  pulling  up  several,  I  found  the  fine  rootlets  putting  out. 
It  was  as  though  I  had  made  a  real  discovery,  for  raising  boxwood 
was  with  me  a  pure  experiment.     The  weeds  growing  between  the 

[131] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

plants  were  pulled  out  by  hand,  and  the  soil  between  rows  fre- 
quently worked  with  a  hoe.  I  commenced  by  the  first  week  in 
April  to  water  the  box  plants  each  day,  if  it  did  not  rain,  so  that 
the  ground  below  the  surface  never  lost  its  moisture.  By  the  first 
part  of  May  they  were  growing  most  encouragingly,  I  wish  to 
emphasize  that  the  most  important  thing  in  growing  boxwood  from 
slips,  after  they  are  rooted,  is  to  M'ater  them  incessantly.  I  don't 
believe  you  can  use  too  much  water.  My  boxwood  is  now  eigh- 
teen months  old,  and  from  six  to  nine  inches  high.  This  November 
it  will  be  transplanted  to  the  walks  throughout  the  lawn.  Ever 
since  a  visit  to  beautiful  old  Brandon  several  years  ago,  I  have 
dreamed  of  boxwood  hedges,  and  I  must  have  boxwood  hedges. 
I  found  the  one  way  I  could  get  them  was  to  grow  them,  and  so  I 
started  in,  and  all  of  you  practical  gardeners  know  the  joy  of 
watching  something  grow  hardy  and  beautiful,  when  in  the  begin- 
ning it  was  but  an  experiment." 

South  of  the  house  and  sheltered  by  it  from  the  full  sweep  of 
the  north  winds,  lies  the  garden  which  has  long  been  noted  in  the 
annals  of  Virginia.  In  form  it  is  semi-circular,  A  ten-foot  turfed 
walk  extends  between  clumps  of  althea,  lilac  and  syringa,  crepe 
myrtles,  spiraea  and  mimosa  trees,  and  beds  rich  in  iris,  paeonies 
and  other  perennials.  Hackberry,  ash  and  elm  trees  overshadow 
the  rose-draped  fence  and  trellises  at  the  entrance.  These  are 
covered  with  a  profusion  of  century-old  damask  roses  of  marvelous 
perfume,  and  scores  of  others,  some  of  the  names  of  which  are  all 
but  forgotten  amid  the  motley  throng  of  modern  blooms. 

Beginning  at  the  garden  entrance  and  multiplying  farther  on 
stand  sempervirens  box  trees,  their  tops  modified  in  pointed 
arborescence.  These  splendid  box  trees,  defiant  of  time  and  trim- 
med to  perfect  cones,  throw  their  shafts  fifteen  feet  into  the  sky. 
With  scattering  knots  of  dwarf  box  they  add  great  dignity  to  this 
garden  laid  out  many  years  ago.     It  is  gratifying  to  tell  that  the 

[132] 


Serpentine   Brick    W  alk.   Leading  from    House   to   Garden,   at    Elk    Hill 


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Elh   Tlill^North    Front 


Elk  Hill— South  Front 


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1  /•- 


BOX    TRE'frS    a>^d  TERRACfrD    GARD£/^3 

AT  ELK  HILL 


The      Upper     James 


boxwood  at  Elk  Hill  shows  better  and  more  consistent  care  than 
any  in  Virginia,  excepting,  perhaps,  Mount  Vernon, 

Seven  terraces  fall  vertically  below  these  evergreen  groupings, 
and  upon  the  topmost  stand  twenty-seven  conical  box  trees,  ranging 
in  height  from  ten  to  twenty  feet,  their  soaring,  dark  green,  glit- 
tering foliage  standing  out  against  the  skyline.  In  lines  of  four, 
three,  two  and  one,  these  trees  grow  ten  feet  apart,  and  below 
them,  but  still  on  the  same  terrace,  a  semi-circular  grassy  plateau 
hedged  with  dwarf  box  extends.  From  this,  the  six  terraces  of  the 
kitchen  garden,  each  grassed  as  it  falls,  drop  to  the  lowest,  which 
once  was  given  over  entirely  to  the  cultivation  of  box. 

To  Randolph  Harrison  is  given  the  credit  for  the  beginning 
of  the  Elk  Hill  garden,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  laid  off 
about  1840.  There  is  a  local  legend  that  after  the  seven  terraces 
were  made,  in  order  to  enrich  them,  with  the  aid  of  teams  of  oxen, 
he  had  soil  hauled  from  an  island  in  James  River,  nearly  a  mile 
away.  With  this  fertile  soil  he  topped  each  terrace,  with  a  result 
that  has  proven  it  well  worth  while. 

The  proportion  of  box  to  the  other  shi-ubbery  at  Elk  Hill  and 
the  scheme  of  its  distribution  are  as  correct  and  effective  for  con- 
trast and  background  to  the  transient  foliage  and  flowers  of  June 
as  amid  the  bare  ramage  of  January.  Both  winter  and  summer, 
as  the  gravest  item  in  the  garden,  the  box  retains  its  values  and 
gives  the  year  round  a  note  both  virile  and  conservative.  There 
is  a  French  saying,  "Evergreens  are  the  joy  of  winter  and  the 
mourning  of  summer  months."  Even  if  this  be  true,  those  who 
see  it  will  agree  that  the  effect  of  spring  and  summer  color  is 
doubled  at  Elk  Hill  by  its  splendid  box,  which,  though  dusky  in 
winter,  with  spring,  or  "the  sweet  of  the  year,"  becomes  bright  with 
tender,  green  leaves.  And  all  this  box,  even  on  dull  days,  makes 
the  bright  flowers  look  as  if  the  sun  were  shining. 

One  reason  latter-day  Americans  garden  along  lines  of  least  re- 
sistance is  that  they  are  always  in  a  hurry.  The  garden  art  is  pre- 
eminently one  of  leisure.     The  designers  of  Elk  Hill  knew  this, 

[133] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

and  in  planning  their  garden  did  much  for  future  generations — 
much  that  has  extended  beyond  the  confines  of  their  evergreen 
garden. 

This  garden  is  of  the  sort  that  can  only  be  found  about  old 
houses  where  sweet  and  sacred  memories  linger  like  the  scent  of 
the  box  and  the  flowers  which  bloom  within  it.  How  cold  and 
unfriendly  modern  gardens  seem  when  compared  to  the  old- 
fashioned  ones!  At  Elk  Hill,  most  of  the  flower  inmates  can  trace 
their  pedigrees  back  to  the  floral  emigrants  from  England  and 
Holland.  The  young  plants  that  replace  the  dead  ones  are  scions 
of  the  old  stock.  Strange  blossoms,  changing  every  springtime, 
would  not  be  in  good  standing  with  the  venerable  day  lilies  and 
periwinkle,  or  the  mock  orange  and  althea,  some  of  whom  can 
remember  the  day  when  the  elms  and  poplars  that  shade  the  lawn 
were  only  saplings. 

In  the  following  verses,  "My  Garden,"  written  by  Mrs.  Stokes, 
we  give  a  charming  picture  of  Elk  Hill  at  blooming  time: 

"Century-old  boxwoods  their  vigils  keep 
Like  sentinels  on  guard  o'er  the  flowers  sweet. 
Lilacs,  purple,  peonies,  pink, 
Jonquils,   hyacinths,   tulips;   think 
Of  the  beauty,  the  fragrance,  the  charm — 
Syringa,  spiraea,  lilies  adorn 
My  Garden. 

"Ah !  Roses  twined  with  memories  sweet ! 
With  rapture  many  hearts  in  'membrance  beat; 
Wars  have  raged  under  colors  of  the  rose, 
Lancaster  and  York  cost  England  in  throes. 
A  bier  is  covered !  A  bride's  path  strewn ! 
But  return  to  the  roses  all — abloom 
In  my  Garden. 

"As  I  sit  in  an  arbor,  all  vine-clad 
With  yellow  star-jasmine,  I  would  I  had 
The  power  to  picture  on  every  side 
Nature's  canvas  painted   in   springtide. 

['34] 


The     Upper     James 


The  bloom,  the  fragrance,  the  color  apace, 
Oh !    The  joy  of  life  as  I  face 
My  Garden. 

Terrace  on  terrace  rolls  to  the  stream 
That  peacefully  flows  in  a  silvery  gleam, 
Bordered  with  honeysuckle,  the  red,  coral  kind. 
O'er  the  fence  the  wistarias  climb. 
Purple  and  green,  crimson  and  gold — 
A  pageantry  of  Nature  brilliantly  enfold 
My  Garden." 

Edith  Dabney  Tunis  Sale. 


ri35i 


BREMO 


REMO,  on  the  Upper  James  River,  the  beautiful 
century-old  home,  built  by  General  John  Hartwell 
Cocke,  stands  as  a  rare  type  of  Greek-Colonial 
architecture,  and  commands  a  superb  view  of  the 
fertile  valley  of  the  James  and  the  Buckingham  hills 
beyond. 

This  estate  with  its  large  stone  barns  and  outbuildings,  is  one 
of  the  most  notable  places  in  its  section. 

Though  he  lived  nearly  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  General 
Cocke  was  as  fanatical  a  prohibitionist  as  any  of  this  later  day. 
Believing  that  water — and  water  only — was  the  beverage  for  men 
to  drink,  he  placed  on  the  bank  of  the  James  River  and  Kanawha 
Canal,  which  ran  through  his  property,  an  enormous  iron  pitcher 
or  urn.  Pipes  from  a  nearby  spring  supplied  the  water  which  ran 
from  the  huge  pitcher  at  all  times  except  freezing  weather.  This 
curiosity,  now  known  as  the  "Teapot  of  Bremo,"  stands  on  the  lawn 
at  the  old  place  where  it  is  a  constant  source  of  interest  to  visitors. 

On  the  low-lying  slope  below  the  south  lawn  lies  the  old  garden, 
famous  in  ante-bellum  days  for  the  beauty  of  its  flowering  shrubs, 
and  its  wealth  of  old-time  flowers  which  pour  out  their  fragrance 
to  all  who  wander  there. 

Its  broad,  winding  walks  are  shaded  by  semi-tropical  trees,  and 
the  sunlight  flickers  through  the  rosy  glow  of  the  feathery  mimosa 
or  the  dark  green  of  the  coffee  tree.  There  one  might  linger  under 
arbors  and  gather  luscious  grapes  or  stroll  along  the  old  serpentine 
brick  wall  and  feast  on  figs  worthy  of  the  Orient.  Or,  they  may 
emerge  from  the  shaded  walks  to  view  the  panorama  of  brilliant 
beds  of  roses  encircled  by  the  dark,  rich  green  of  the  box-hedge 
which  forms  a  gigantic  star  in  the  midst  of  the  garden.  Farther  on, 
myriads  of  flowering  bulbs  once  rejoiced  on  the  sloping  borders  of  a 

[136] 


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HIG-H        STOJvi&     WAt,!5 


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BREA\0   RECESS 


The      Upper     James 


mirror-lake,  whose  calm  waters  reflected  the  beauty  of  the  garden 
and  rippled  with  the  graceful  motion  of  the  swan  upon  its  waters. 

Where  the  lake  narrowed  to  join  the  waters  of  the  canal  beyond, 
a  graceful  arched  bridge  led  across  to  the  orchard  on  the  one  side 
with  fruits  and  nuts  of  various  kinds.  On  the  other,  were  the  vege- 
table gardens  with  a  luxuriance  of  all  things  for  the  bountiful  table 
of  the  old  house,  within  whose  walls  many  noted  guests  were 
welcomed. 

Near  by  there  was  a  rabbit-warren,  the  soft,  downy  bunnies 
being  the  delight  of  all  the  children  in  early  days  who  visited 
Bremo. 

In  one  corner  of  the  garden  wall  stood  the  brick  cottage  where 
Aunt  Phyllis  lived.  She  had  special  charge  of  the  chickens  that 
feasted  in  the  adjacent  barnyard. 

Just  after  the  War  Between  the  States,  General  Lee  was  visit- 
ing Bremo,  where  his  family  had  spent  much  time  during  the  war. 
Aunt  Phyllis  had  cared  for  Miss  Mildred  Lee's  pets  while  she  was 
at  Bremo,  and  the  General  said  he  wished  to  thank  her;  so,  accom- 
panied by  two  college  boys,  he  called  at  the  cottage.  Aunt  Phyllis, 
who  was  the  pure  African  type,  stood  curtseying  in  the  doorway 
and  hastened  to  tell  General  Lee  of  her  war  experience.  She  said 
that  the  Yankee  soldiers  in  passing  Bremo  had  induced  her,  under 
false  pretences,  to  feed  and  house  her  large  flock  of  chickens. 
They  then  entered  the  hen-house,  caught  all  of  the  chickens,  tied 
them  to  their  saddles  and  were  off,  with  the  laugh  on  the  old  woman. 
Aunt  Phyllis  wound  up  her  story  by  saying,  "Mars  Bob,  dem 
Yankees  is  de  mos'  interruptious  nation  I  ever  did  see."  General 
Lee  threw  back  his  head  with  a  hearty  laugh  and  said,  "Auntie, 
I  have  certainly  found  them  so !" 

With  the  passing  of  the  old  days  and  the  old  regime,  many 
beauties  of  the  garden  also  passed,  and  nature  now  runs  riot  with 
lavish  luxuriance  on  the  spot  that  the  gardener's  art  once  shaped 
into  ideal  beauty.     The  old  home,  mellowed  by  years,  stands  en- 

[137] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

throned  on  the  hill.     It  is  surrounded  by  giant  oaks  and  elms  and 
does  not  need  the  distant  view  of  the  garden. 

A  wee  garden  now  nestles  at  the  south  front  of  Bremo.  This  is 
a  true  daughter  of  the  old-time  garden,  wafting  to  one  on  the  Greek 
portico  above,  the  delicious  fragrance  of  magnolia,  mimosa,  crepe 
myrtle,  lavender,  cinnamon  pinks,  and  musk-cluster  roses.  In  it  one 
may  find  white  and  blue  violets,  peeping  through  the  green  leaves, 
and  a  shimmer  of  golden  crocus  on  its  borders.  This  little  garden, 
with  its  overgrown  predecessor,  and  everything  in  both  leads  one's 
fancy  to  float  along  the  fragrant  paths  of  a  century  gone  and  rejoice 
that  old-time  flowers  still  greet  each  season  at  Bremo. 

Mazyck  W.  Shields. 


T3« 


RECESS 


ACK  from  the  James  River,  on  the  highlands, 
nestled  among  the  trees  which  have  long  been  a 
feature  of  the  place,  lies  the  Recess  garden.  This 
was  laid  out  under  the  direction  of  General  John  H. 
Cocke,  who  left  his  home  in  Surrey  County,  Vir- 
ginia, to  come  to  the  estate  of  his  forefathers, 
before  the  War  of  1812. 

General  Cocke  settled  temporarily  at  Bremo  Recess  while  he 
was  building  the  handsome  home  a  few  miles  away  which  he  called 
Bremo,  in  memory  of  an  early  home  of  his  family  in  Henrico 
County. 

The  Recess  garden  occupied  an  exact  acre  and  lies  four  square. 
The  uplands  were  not  as  fertile  as  the  lowgrounds,  so  General 
Cocke  had  three  feet  of  the  soil  removed  from  the  garden  and 
replaced  it  with  three  feet  of  earth  from  the  lowgrounds,  thus 
making  it  rich  to  begin  with.  The  garden  was  laid  out  in  squares 
with  walks  between  and  a  narrow  border  around  each  square  for 
flowers  or  grapevines.  It  was  all  enclosed  by  a  stone  wall,  parts  of 
which  were  and  still  are  covered  with  English  ivy,  making  it  very 
picturesque. 

There  are  vines  and  rosebushes  left  in  this  garden  that  were 
loved  and  cherished  by  the  wife  of  General  Cocke.  One  in  par- 
ticular, that  flourishes  today  and  has  given  delight  to  many  of  her 
descendants,  is  called  the  musk  cluster.  This  has  the  most  unique 
and  exquisite  odor  imaginable.  Like  all  odors,  it  has  the  power  of 
awakening  the  memories  of  so  much  that  is  dear  and  sacred  of  those 
who  are  gone. 

Before  he  died,  General  Cocke  gave  Recess  to  his  oldest  son 
and  namesake.  One  of  the  legacies  left  by  the  latter  was  a  splendid 
collection  of  pear  trees,  which  have  delighted  generations  of  chil- 

[139] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

dren  and  grown  people  with  their  delicious  fruits — these  ripen  con- 
secutively from  June  until  November.  When  covered  with  their 
snowy  veil  of  blossoms  in  the  spring  the  trees  looked  like  brides, 
so  I  heard  one  of  their  beloved  mistresses  say. 

The  next  owners  were  a  most  devoted  and  flower-loving  couple 
who  added  much  to  the  beauty  and  fruitfulness  of  the  garden  in 
its  variety  of  raspberries,  peaches,  pears,  apples,  and  grapes.  They 
also  added  to  the  large  number  of  figs  planted  by  General  Cocke. 
How  well  I  can  remember  those  fig-bushes  against  the  stone-wall! 
They  have  been  a  joy  to  friends  and  relations  far  and  near;  those 
visiting  the  family,  or  those  dear  ones  near  enough  for  the  delicious 
fruit  to  be  transported  in  large  or  small  containers.  Most  of  the 
late  figs  are  gone  now.  All  of  the  different  kinds  that  are  left  are 
buried  six  inches  below  the  surface  of  the  ground  and  staked  down 
about  November  15th,  to  escape  freezing  weather.  They  are  not 
taken  up  again  until  the  middle  of  April,  which  treatment  assures 
an  abundance  of  fruit. 

Not  very  long  before  the  War  Between  the  States,  a  friend 
sent  General  Cocke  two  scuppernong  grapevines  from  North  Caro- 
lina. He  sent  them  to  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Arthur  Lee  Brent,  to 
whom  he  had  given  Recess  after  the  death  of  his  son,  John,  who 
died  unmarried.  Mrs.  Brent  planted  them  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  garden  and  they  were  busily  running  over  the  arbor  in  my 
early  childhood.  They  would  have  run  riot  all  over  the  whole 
garden  by  this  time  had  they  been  permitted  to  do  so.  However, 
loving  hands  restricted  them  and  now  they  are  not  only  beautiful 
but  have  borne  bushels  of  grapes,  from  which  delightful  wine 
and  jelly  have  been  made.  It  was  some  years  before  the  scupper- 
nong vines  began  to  bear  at  all,  and  when  they  did,  at  first  they 
produced  but  one  grape  at  a  time  here  and  there;  then  two  and 
three  came,  until  now  they  yield  good  sized  bunches,  which  hide 
themselves  under  the  pretty  leaves  of  the  wonderful  vine,  giving 
forth  a  very  sweet  odor. 

Another  charming  feature  of  the  Recess  garden  of  my  child- 

[140] 


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Niw  zemKnd  peach 


aENTINE    ORRI 


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VEGETABLES 


VEGETABLES 


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.*'W.lfirtio«'e-i-. 


The      Upper     James 


hood  days  comes  to  mind  as  I  recall  the  arbors  that  stood  there. 
Three  of  these,  large  and  octagonal,  were  placed  at  the  Intersection 
of  the  walks  and  over  them  climbed  roses  and  other  vines.  One, 
In  particular,  seemed  very  beautiful  to  me.  It  was  covered  with 
yellow  roses  called  the  Lady  Banksia,  which  blooms  in  long 
wreaths  and  clusters. 

Once,  when  a  May  party  was  the  occasion  of  celebrating  the 
birthday  of  a  fair  young  girl  who,  after  a  great  many  years,  became 
the  mistress  of  Recess,  Ices  and  dainties  of  various  kinds  were  dis- 
pensed to  her  companions  from  a  new  arbor  covered  with  pink 
roses.  Seats  were  built  around  this  arbor  and  a  pretty  rustic  table 
was  placed  in  the  center.  It  stood  near  the  late  figs,  at  the  highest 
part  of  the  stone  wall  which  bounded  the  garden. 

Shrubs  of  many  kinds  and  great  bushes  of  Ivy  formed  quite  a 
feature  of  the  Recess  garden.  It  is  strikingly  picturesque  when  the 
golden  forsythia  or  tall,  white  lilies  stand  out  against  the  dark, 
compact  greenness  of  the  boxwoods.  The  many  beds  of  spice  pinks 
of  the  same  variety  that  used  to  be  In  the  lovely  garden  at  Mount 
Vernon,  also  give  charm  and  sweetness  to  this  old  Virginia  garden. 

Fannie  G.  Campbell. 


[14.] 


POINT   OF    FORK 

OINT  OF  FORK  derives  its  name  from  its  situation 
at  the  forks  of  James  River.  One  branch  of  this 
is  here  called  the  Rivanna  (River  Anna),  and  the 
other,  which  is  the  main  branch,  now  the  James, 
was  formerly  the  Fluvous  Anna  (Fluvanna),  both 
named  for  Anna,  Queen  of  James  I. 

This  was  once  a  noted  Indian  stronghold,  the  capital  of  the 
Monacan  nation,  which  was  known  by  the  tribe  as  Rausawek. 
The  supremacy  of  these  Indians  at  one  time  extended  over  the 
AUeghanies  to  the  Falls  of  the  James  at  Richmond  and  numbered 
many  thousands.  They  carried  their  wars  even  into  Canada.  At 
Point  of  Fork,  near  the  entrance  into  the  garden,  is  the  spot  where 
one  of  their  chieftains,  famous  for  his  warlike  exploits  and  success- 
ful raids  against  the  Iroquois,  lies  buried. 

The  spot  was  also  on  John  Smith's  map,  and  was  reported  by 
him  as  the  principal  settlement  of  the  Monacans  in  his  time.  They 
had  then  been  greatly  reduced  by  disastrous  wars  in  the  North. 

Point  of  Fork  was  regarded  as  a  strategic  point  by  the  Colonial 
Virginians  in  Revolutionary  days,  and  was  an  important  barracks 
and  arsenal  where  military  stores  were  kept.  Here,  General 
(Baron)  Von  Steuben  trained  the  Revolutionary  troops,  and  the 
Battle  of  Point  of  Fork  Avas  fought  with  Simcoe  and  Tarleton, 
the  latter  having  his  headquarters  here.  During  the  War  Between 
the  States,  Generals  Sheridan  and  Custer  made  the  present  resi- 
dence their  headquarters. 

The  eminence,  upon  which  the  house  is  located,  faces  the  convex 
of  the  bend  in  the  river,  and  commands  a  beautiful  view  of  the 
James  for  several  miles.  The  dwelling  was  erected  about  one 
hundred  years  ago  by  William  Gait,  a  rich  Scotch  merchant,  who 
resided  in  Richmond.     At  that  time,  the  estate  contained  five  thou- 

[142] 


The     Upper     James 


sand,  two  hundred  and  ninety-three  acres.  On  November  24,  1828, 
John  Allen,  executor  and  trustee  of  William  Gait,  deeded  Point  of 
Fork  to  James  Gait,  a  nephew  of  the  first  owner  of  that  name. 

The  red  brick  house,  with  white  marble  trim,  is  of  Georgian 
design,  and  is  still  one  of  the  handsomest  in  this  part  of  Virginia. 
It  is  said  that  the  massive  timber  of  which  it  is  constructed  was 
selected  with  great  care  and  allowed  to  season  several  years  before 
it  was  used.  The  floors  are  hardwood,  the  doors  and  banisters 
of  mahogany.  In  the  wide  hall,  which  runs  the  length  of  the  house, 
there  is  a  graceful  elliptical  stairway  with  mahogany  rails.  Broad 
entrance  steps  lead  up  to  the  porch,  and  this  also  extends  the  width 
of  the  house  for  about  sixty-five  feet.  This  porch  is  upheld  by 
large  white  columns  which  extend  up  to  the  roof.  The  present 
owner  has  added  many  modern  improvements  and  put  in  order  the 
terraced  gardens  and  shrubbery  for  which  Point  of  Fork  was  once 
famous. 

The  gardens,  which  are  large,  were  laid  out  with  great  care 
and  expense.  They  lie  some  distance  from  the  house,  and  on  both 
sides,  and  many  of  their  walks  are  bordered  with  Florentine  orris. 
They  consist  of  six  terraces,  each  of  which  is  sixty  feet  wide  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long.  There  is  a  wide  bed  at  the  foot 
of  the  last  and  the  corners  of  each  are  rounded  by  paths  leading 
around  them  to  the  main  walks.  The  latter,  which  range  from  one 
to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  width,  extend  along  each  side  of 
the  terraces.  On  the  other  side  are  beds,  thirty  feet  broad,  running 
with  the  walks  the  entire  length  of  the  garden.  Both  walks  and 
flower  beds  show  the  natural  slope  of  the  garden,  which  is  very 
gentle,  as  the  terraces  range  only  from  four  to  five  feet  in  height. 
The  exposure  of  all  is  southwest. 

The  soils  on  the  various  terraces  are  all  different  in  character 
and  composition,  some  having  been  hauled  from  a  distance,  some 
from  the  woodland,  and  still  others  from  the  rich  lowgrounds,  as 
was  frequently  done  in  the  best  old  Virginia  gardens.  The  front 
of  the  garden,  which  has  the  shape  of  a  concave  curve,  opens  upon 

[143] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

the  carriage  way  leading  to  the  residence.  The  bank  here  is  a  mass 
of  lihes,  spring  flowers,  and  hollyhocks  its  entire  length.  Across 
the  way  a  large  grove  of  splendid  old  trees  serve  as  protection 
from  the  north  winds.  This  grove  is  bordered  with  shrubs  and 
Scotch  broom  and  in  it,  about  seventy  feet  from  the  main  entrance 
to  the  gardens,  is  the  grave  of  the  famous  Indian  chieftain. 

Along  the  main  walks  of  the  garden  many  grapevines  and 
foreign  fruits  are  planted.  There  are  at  least  twenty-five  varieties 
of  grapes  and  many  kinds  of  fruits  from  Asia  and  Africa.  There 
are  still  Chinese  bush  cherries  and  Chinese  sweet  cherries  next,  and 
plums  from  Natal  and  Russia;  still  other  fruits  came  from  the 
Himalayas. 

Scattered  throughout  the  garden  are  box  and  mimosa  trees, 
honeysuckle,  indicera  gerardiana,  and  other  flowering  shrubs.  At 
the  main  entrance,  for  thirty  feet  or  more,  are  long  rows  of  figs 
of  two  fine  varieties.  Every  November  these  fig  trees  are  bent  to 
the  ground,  fastened  down  and  covered  with  two  feet  or  more  of 
earth.  In  April  they  are  taken  up,  and  invariably  yield  two  crops 
of  delicious  figs  each  year. 

On  one  side,  between  the  house  and  garden,  lies  the  orchard 
of  pears  and  plums,  A  driveway  through  this  is  bordered  with 
many  kinds  of  altheas,  and  at  the  foot  of  the  garden,  the  apple 
orchard  extends  to  the  stream  below  and  beyond  to  the  hillside 
which  it  covers. 

On  both  fronts  of  the  house  are  extensive  lawns,  upon  which 
grow  many  varieties  of  handsome  old  trees.  Among  the  latter  is 
a  genuine  cedar  of  Lebanon,  The  Department  of  Agriculture  is 
authority  for  the  statement  that  this  is  one  of  the  few  genuine 
specimens  to  be  found  in  America, 

J.  Alston  Cabell. 


[144] 


■ 

^^^Hp. 

del;   '.... 

1 

W^'^  ■' 

I           IT 

H 

1  ■'"  ■ 

WESTEND 

O  neighborhood  In  Virginia  exceeds  that  of  the 
Green  Springs  in  its  rural  charm.  There  are  no 
magnificent  views,  no  prodigies  of  nature,  but  the 
coloring  and  exquisite  contour  of  the  land,  the 
woods  that  define  and  give  value  to  every  stretch 
of  field  and  meadow,  make  this  a  country  pre- 
eminently fitted  for  homes. 

Years  ago  the  little  mineral  spring,  that  gives  this  part  of  Louisa 
County  its  name,  was  a  popular  summer  resort,  but  even  the  oldest 
inhabitant  can  just  remember  the  decrepid  bath-house  that  survived 
the  hotel  and  cottages. 

The  rock  formation  about  this  spring  is  confined  to  a  compara- 
tively small  area,  several  miles  long,  and  two  or  three  miles  wide. 
The  rock  is  soft  and  speckled  throughout  with  green.  It  is  said 
to  be  the  bed  of  a  prehistoric  lake. 

The  soil  in  this  section  is  particularly  fertile,  and  that,  no  doubt, 
tempted  the  first  Watson  and  the  first  Morris  to  come  to  Louisa 
County.  They,  with  their  descendants,  owned  the  land  for  over 
a  hundred  years  and  built  the  homes  that  are  standing  today — 
Ionia,  "The  Old  Place";  Sylvania,  Bracketts,  Hawkwood,  Grass- 
dale,  and  Westend.  Most  of  these  estates  have  passed  in  late  years 
from  the  hands  of  their  original  owners  and,  as  usual,  when  places 
pass  from  hand  to  hand,  the  gardens  have  suffered  most.  Now, 
there  is  barely  a  trace  left  of  the  early  gardens  with  one  exception, 
and  that  is  the  garden  of  Westend.  This  garden  lives  today  un- 
touched, a  perfect  example  of  the  landscape  art  of  its  day. 

The  house  at  Westend  was  built  in  1849  by  Mrs.  James  Wat- 
son, who  was  Miss  Susan  Dabney  Morris,  of  Sylvania.  Mrs.  Wat- 
son, so  far  as  we  know,  designed  the  garden  and  planted  the 
ground's  at  Westend  herself,   but  just  as  we   feel  Le  Notre,   at 

[145] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Brandon,  and  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  at  Westover,  here  Downlng's 
influence  seems  to  prevail.  This  is  especially  seen  in  the  grounds, 
and  nowhere  could  there  be  found  a  house  more  perfectly  set.  The 
broad,  open  lawn  in  front,  the  careful  selection  and  grouping  of 
trees,  the  avenue  of  elms,  are  all  a  monument  to  Mrs.  Watson's 
taste,  and  an  inspiration  to  the  landscape  architect  of  this  day. 

The  site  of  Westend  is  on  a  part  of  Bracketts,  the  older  estate 
of  the  Watson  family.  When  Mrs.  Watson  began  her  garden 
here,  the  place  was  little  more  than  a  bare  field.  Under  her  ef- 
ficient direction,  however,  it  soon  literally  blossomed  as  the  rose. 
Trees  she  ordered  planted  just  where  they  would  mean  the  most. 
Shrubs  she  placed  where  screens  were  needed  to  hide  the  more 
barren  spots. 

The  grounds  around  the  house,  including  the  garden,  consist  of 
about  twelve  acres,  all  enclosed  by  a  hedge  of  clipped  osage  orange. 
The  garden  itself  is  two  acres  in  extent  and  is  rectangular  in  shape. 
The  lower  part  is  for  vegetables,  and  this  is  charming  in  its  sim- 
plicity of  straight  rows  and  grass  walks.  This,  too,  has  an  osage 
orange  hedge  for  border.  The  upper  end  of  the  rectangle  is  given 
over  to  the  flower  garden,  which  is  divided  from  the  lower  by 
shrubbery,  and  enclosed  by  a  boxwood  hedge. 

There  is  a  raised  circle  in  the  center  of  the  garden,  about  fifty 
feet  in  diameter.  This  is  divided  into  small  beds  of  roses  that 
slope  gradually  upward  to  a  center  circle  surrounding  a  pillar  rose. 
The  walks  on  the  "mound,"  as  it  is  called,  are  of  grass,  and  the 
beds  though  originally  bordered  with  box,  are  now  edged  with 
periwinkle.  In  addition  to  the  roses,  there  are  quantities  of 
Madonna  lilies;  and  these  lilies,  as  well  as  almost  all  of  the  roses, 
were  planted  over  seventy  years  ago.  Unfortunately,  no  record  of 
the  names  of  the  roses  has  been  kept,  but  to  a  rosarian  they  are 
particularly  interesting,  as  so  many  have  joined  the  ranks  of  "old 
and  forgotten  far-off  things." 

The  beds  that  surround  the  mound  are  large  and  irregular  in 
shape  in  order  to  conform  to  the  circle  In  the  center  and  to  the 

[.46] 


The      Upper     James 

rectangular  boundary.  The  paths  curve  through  them,  half  hidden 
by  shrubbery,  in  a  fascinating  manner.  Originally,  the  garden  was 
pointed  up  with  spruce-pine,  now  grown  into  large  trees,  some  of 
which  have  died,  detracting  from  the  carefully  planned  "balance." 
At  one  time  a  summer-house  stood  just  where  the  central  path  of 
the  vegetable  garden  entered  the  flower  garden;  this,  unfortunately, 
has  not  survived,  but  so  many  of  the  old  shrubs  and  plants  remain 
as  they  were  originally  planted,  that  our  great-grandmother's  gar- 
den of  1849  stands  today  a  memorial  to  one  who  knew  and  loved 
"the  art  of  gardening." 

L.  P.  C.  T. 


[147] 


The  Tidewater  Trail 


If  "-'^           ''•*>'■ 

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V/ic   (rarden   (it   Limson    Hall 


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p»^— " 

Lawson  Hall,  Princess  Anne  County 


Sylvan  Scene,  I\ orthampton  County — Home  of  the  Fitzhughs 


LAWSON   HALL 

EVEN  miles  from  Norfolk  on  the  road  leading 
towards  Cape  Henry  is  Lawson  Hall.  The  planta- 
tion originally  contained  over  one  thousand  acres 
and  was  a  Crown  grant  to  Sir  Thomas  Lawson  of 
England  in  1607.  It  is  said  this  same  Sir  Thomas 
Lawson  was  one  of  the  company  who  sailed  in  the 
ship  of  Sir  George  Summers,  which  was  caught  in  a  gale  off  the 
Bermudas,  and  that  it  was  from  this  stirring  tale  Shakespeare  got 
the  material  for  his  "Tempest." 

Formerly  ships  came  from  the  sea  through  Little  Creek  and 
landed  their  stores  near  the  site  of  the  present  house.  Of  these 
merchant  ships  the  Lawsons  are  said  to  have  had  many,  and 
brought  in  them,  so  the  story  goes,  some  of  the  bricks  and  much  of 
the  carved  grey  marble  of  which  the  original  dwelling  was  con- 
structed. In  the  latter,  the  walls  were  two  feet  thick  and  the  draw- 
ing-room twenty-six  feet  square.  Every  room  was  finished  in  rich, 
hand-made  wainscoting,  but,  unfortunately,  this  house  was  de- 
stroyed by  fire  several  years  ago.  The  residence  we  now  see  was 
built  a  few  years  ago  by  the  present  owner,  Mr.  C.  F.  Hodgman, 
who  has  built  with  appreciation  and  sympathy  for  the  older  home 
and  has  added  greatly  to  the  restoration  of  Lawson  Hall. 

However,  it  is  the  gardens  which  interest  us  most.  It  is  not 
known  just  when  these  were  laid  off,  but  those  who  are  familiar  with 
the  life  of  trees  say  it  must  have  been  over  two  hundred  years  ago. 
Here  there  are  great  beeches  and  laurel  oaks  with  a  spread  of  over 
ninety  feet  and  many  boxwood  trees  in  formal  rows;  these  are 
among  the  largest  in  America.  The  box-trees  and  the  rows  of 
cedars  make  it  a  scene  as  if  summer  were  here  the  whole  year  round. 
One  feels  in  looking  at  the  old  place  that  one  of  these  Lawsons 
brought  with  him  the  memory  of  some  much  loved  garden  in  Eng- 

[151] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

land  and  reproduced  it  here.  For  many  years  the  estate  suffered 
decay,  and  it  was  used  as  officers'  headquarters  during  the  War 
Between  the  States  by  both  armies.  Yet,  during  all  these  trying 
times,  no  one  cut  down  the  beautiful  boxwood  or  harmed  the 
larger  trees. 

A  broad  avenue  one-half  mile  in  length  leads  from  the  public 
road  to  the  house.  As  one  enters  here,  the  road  divides  and  circles 
to  the  marble  walk  which  leads  to  the  front  door.  On  this  front 
lawn  are  the  very  largest  trees — beech,  laurel,  oak  and  maple. 
Across  the  front  of  the  house  and  along  the  two  sides  are  the  box- 
trees  which  in  front  are  kept  low  and  clipped,  but  at  the  sides 
have  been  allowed  to  grow  as  trees  will  until  now  they  reach  above 
the  middle  of  the  second-story  windows. 

On  the  left  of  the  house  is  a  terrace  with  fine  large  box-trees 
on  the  edge.  On  this  also  is  the  formal  rose  garden,  which  has  been 
planted  by  the  present  owner.  Going  down  from  the  terrace  by  two 
stone  steps  and  on  for  about  thirty  feet  one  comes  upon  a  little 
stream  with  box-trees  on  either  side,  whose  tops  meet  above  it. 
This  is  a  veritable  bird  sanctuary,  for  here  the  year  around  birds 
of  some  kind  may  be  found.  In  summer  the  mocking  bird,  the 
cardinal  and  the  wren  make  it  their  very  own. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  stream  after  another  level  of  about 
thirty  feet  the  ground  is  terraced  again.  Here,  too,  are  box-trees 
in  line  with  the  trees  of  the  other  terrace.  On  this  the  red  day 
lilies  run  wild  and  in  June  are  a  glowing  mass.  This  is  not  seen 
until  one  comes  on  it  suddenly  upon  descending  the  first  terrace. 
There,  too,  the  white  narcissus  is  naturalized.  Other  native  wild 
flowers  have  been  moved  here — the  blood-root,  trailing  arbutus 
and  others. 

This  year  most  of  the  box-trees  have  had  their  first  clipping. 
To  know  that  one  thousand  three  hundred  pounds  of  short  clippings 
were  cut  and  can  hardly  be  missed,  shows  the  number  and  size  of 
the  stately  trees  of  England  that  have  found  a  home  here  and  seem 
to  like  it. 


The      Tidewater     Trail 


These  Lawsons  and  their  kinsmen,  the  Walkes,  who  occupied 
the  place  so  many  years,  identified  themselves  with  all  that  was 
fine  in  the  history  of  the  new  country.  One  of  them  was  always  a 
vestryman  in  that  ancient  and  most  interesting  church  known  as 
Old  Donation,  as  well  as  the  little  church  that  preceded  the  present 
one.  Another  Lawson  helped  select  the  site  of  Norfolk.  There 
were  women,  too,  of  charm  and  beauty.  One,  Mary  Calvert 
Lawson,  has  had  her  name  handed  down  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion always  Mary  Calvert,  whether  it  be  Lawson  or  Walke,  Hill 
or  Truxtun,  as  it  is  today. 

When  the  moonlight  streams  over  this  garden,  and  lingers 
lovingly  there,  one  feels  that  much  of  interest  has  happened  in  it. 
That  these  wonderful  trees  through  their  several  generations  have 
been  revered  is  truly  evident  in  that  during  these  more  than  two 
centuries  they  have  never  been  harmed,  keeping  their  foliage  green, 
and  making  of  a  lovely  spot  a  perpetual  summer,  and  well  may 
the  poet  have  applied  to  it: 

"A  place  of  rest  with  swaying  trees, 
A  lovely  garden  by  the  sea." 


Cornelia  Hodgman. 


[153] 


POPLAR    HALL 

T  was  about  the  year  1640  that  the  first  member 
of  the  Hoggard  family  came  to  this  country. 
Shortly  after  that,  he  obtained  from  the  Crown  a 
tract  of  land  in  Tidewater  Virginia,  and  this  grant, 
it  is  interesting  to  note,  has  never  passed  out  of 
the  possession  of  his  descendants  of  the  same  name 
and  blood.  As  the  place  has  never  been  sold,  it  has  never  been 
identified  with  any  other  name  than  that  of  Hoggard. 

Tradition  says  that  the  place  name.  Poplar  Hall,  originated 
from  the  numerous  and  very  fine  poplar  trees  planted  about  the 
house;  there  is  also  a  story  that  these  trees  were  brought  from 
England.  This,  however,  seems  almost  impossible.  To  begin  with, 
the  ships  of  the  seventeenth  century  were  too  small,  navigation  was 
too  difficult  and  absolute  necessities  were  so  essential,  that  the  early 
colonists  could  not  afford  to  consider  anything  else.  But,  even  if 
the  trees  were  imported  and  were  put  out,  two  centuries  later  not 
one  of  the  original  growth  of  poplars  remains.  Their  place  has 
been  well  taken  by  pecan  trees,  which  shade  the  lawn;  and  add  to 
this,  their  great  commercial  value. 

The  house,  a  plain  brick  structure,  stands  on  a  slight  elevation 
directly  on  the  shores  of  Broad  Creek,  a  tributary  of  the  Elizabeth 
River,  which  flows  through  Norfolk  County.  Though  once  far 
from  civilization,  the  dwelling  is  now  almost  in  the  heart  of  the 
city  of  Norfolk.  The  exact  date  of  its  building  is  not  known,  but 
interior  and  exterior  work  and  design,  the  type  of  brick  used,  and 
the  general  atmosphere  of  the  smaller  buildings,  would  seem  to 
place  it  about  1645.  The  following  poem,  written  in  June,  1828, 
gives  the  best  description  of  life  at  Poplar  Hall  to  be  had: 

[154] 


The  Park  (it  It  hite  Marsh  ivith  Its  Remarkable  I  ariety  of  Trees 


A  J'ine-Covered  Outbuilding  at  Gordonsdale,  Fauquier  County 


«i3StSr: 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


THE  TRIP  TO  POPLAR  HALL 

(Seat  of  T.  Haggard,  Esq.) 

A  Tale— June,  1828 

T.  Hoggard  was  a  widower, 
And  a  Farmer  bold  beside; 
*  A  pleasant  country  seat  had  he 
On  Broad  Creek's  flowing  tide. 

Now  Hoggard  had  a  friend,  who  lived 

In  Norfolk's  famous  town ; 
A  Counsellor  at  Law  was  he 

Of  credit  and  renown. 

So  to  this  friend  he  one  day  sent 

An  invitation  kind. 
That  he  and  his  dear  wife  would  come 

And  leave  their  cares  behind. 

The  Lawyer's  spouse  said  to  him,  dear, 

We  both  lack  change  of  air ; 
So  let  us  to  friend  Thurmer's  go 

All  in  a  chaise  and  pair. 

He  soon  replied,  I  do  admire 

Of  womankind  but  one ; 
And  you  are  she,  my  dearest  dear, 

Therefore,  it  shall  be  done. 

Now  Washington  and  Colonel  Walke, 

Who  were  two  gallants  bold. 
Were  both  together  of  one  mind 

In  what — you'll  soon  be  told. 

Quoth  Colonel  Walke— The  girls  are  gone, 

As  you  and  I  both  know ; 
So  we  must  now  our  minds  make  up 

Right  after  them  to  go. 

[155] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 


Aixl  as  we  'proached  fair  Poplar  Hall, 

Beneath  a  poplar  tree, 
They  were  sitting  all  beneath  its  shade 

And  chatting  merrilie. 

Now  welcomings  on  ev'ry  side 

Right  cordially  did  greet. 
And  full  glad  in  truth  were  we 

Our  fair  young  friends  to  meet. 

We  ate  and  drank  and  play'd  and  sung, 

And  walk'd  about  the  grove, 
Chatting  of  this  thing  then  of  that, 

But  wot  not  aught  of  love. 

The  morning  come — and  breakfast  o'er. 

And  having  bid  good-bye. 
They  went  with  heavy  hearts,  I  ween, 

And  many  a  heavy  sigh. 

Long  live  the  girls  of  Cum'land  Street, 

And  Hoggard,  long  live  he, 
And  when  he  next  invites  them  out 

May  I  o'  the  party  be. 

The  large  garden,  which  was  used  both  for  flowers  and  vege- 
tables, still  has  the  original  square  central  beds  bound  by  long,  nar- 
row borders  on  each  side.  Its  dominant  feature  is  a  very  beautiful 
and  unusual  Persian  lilac,  which  stands  ten  feet  high  and  throws  out 
its  graceful  branches  with  a  span  of  twelve  feet  from  the  ground 
upward. 

And  there  are  many  roses  of  the  old  varieties  at  Poplar  Hall. 
But  in  the  culture  of  roses,  this  garden  has  kept  pace  with  the 
times.  Nearly  all  of  the  old-fashioned  flowers  bloom  here  at  their 
various  seasons,  but  the  lily  of  the  valley,  which  has  naturalized, 
has  spread  about  the  garden  in  almost  tropical  luxuriance  and  is 
easily  the  one  flower  thought  of  in  connection  with  Poplar  Hall. 

[■56] 


csfa — KSftLg 

The     Tidewater     Trail 

It  has  been  said  that  at  least  one  acre  could  be  planted  out  from  the 
lily  of  the  valley  roots  in  this  old  garden. 

Seven  generations  of  one  family  have  lived  under  this  hospitable 
roof.  More  than  one  war  has  passed  over  it  and  left  it  still  un- 
scathed. The  fires  which  wrought  such  havoc  in  the  city  of  Nor- 
folk seem  to  have  respected  both  the  age  and  dignity  of  "this 
pleasant  country  seat  on  Broad  Creek's  flowing  tide." 

Fannie  C.  Hoggard. 


[157] 


GREEN   PLAINS 

N  exceptionally  pretty  excursion  is  to  take  the  Mob- 
jack  Bay  boat  at  Norfolk  or  Old  Point  and  steam 
out  through  Hampton  Roads  into  the  Chesapeake 
Bay;  then  on,  and  up  Into  Mobjack  Bay,  and  ex- 
plore its  tributaries — East,  North,  West  and 
Severn  Rivers.  The  largest  of  these  and  the  most 
beautiful  Is  North  River,  twelve  miles  long,  and  more  than  a  mile 
wide  at  Its  mouth.  As  the  boat  turns  from  Mobjack  Bay,  into 
this  river,  its  course  carries  It  very  near  the  point  of  land  on  which 
is  situated,  in  Mathews  County,  "Green  Plains,"  the  home  of 
the  Roys  since  the  latter  part  of  1700. 

"Isleham,"  the  home  of  Sir  John  Peyton,  a  relative  of  Mr. 
James  Henry  Roy,  and  his  marriage  to  Elizabeth  Booth,  of  "Belle- 
ville," Gloucester  County,  just  across  the  river,  seem  to  have  been 
the  Inducements  to  him  to  leave  Essex,  the  home  of  his  forefather, 
Dr.  Mungo  Roy  of  Revolutionary  fame,  and  erect  one  of  the  most 
attractive  and  complete  establishments  In  Tidewater  Virginia,  in  a 
location  incomparably  beautiful.  The  river  is  like  an  Inland  lake, 
and  on  a  bright  day  the  handsome  homes  are  reflected  in  the  water 
all  along  the  shores,  as  if  in  a  mirror. 

Green  Plains  mansion  Is  of  brick,  composed  of  a  large  central 
building,  of  two  stories  and  an  immense  attic  and  cellar,  with  wings 
on  the  east  and  west  of  one  story.  A  broad  hall  runs  through  the 
house  from  north  to  south,  with  two  rooms  on  either  side  on  first 
and  second  floors.  The  stairway  with  two  landings,  the  carved 
and  paneled  woodwork,  the  recessed  windows  with  their  broad 
seats  and  enchanting  cupboards  In  the  sides  of  the  mantels,  are  In- 
teresting architectural  features. 

There  were  Innumerable  outbuildings,  many  of  brick  and  most 
substantially  built;  the  carpenter's  shop,   the  weaving  room,   the 

[158] 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


tanning  house,  one  of  the  conical-shaped  icehouses  peculiar  to  Tide- 
water Virginia,  an  unusual  number  of  fine  barns,  and  quarters  for 
the  house  servants  and  field  hands.  The  out-of-doors  kitchen  had 
an  immense  fireplace — crane,  and  a  Dutch  oven  and,  of  course,  in 
the  good  old  days,  a  "tin  kitchen,"  where  huge  saddles  of  mutton 
and  haunches  of  venison  were  roasted  before  the  great  fire  of  logs. 
On  either  side  of  the  house  were  "strikers"  for  the  house-servants, 
each  one  having  an  especial  number,  and  it  needed  twenty-one 
strikes  to  complete  the  tally  in  the  days  before  '6i-'65.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  James  H.  Roy  lived  in  a  small  but  comfortable  brick  build- 
ing, still  in  evidence  on  the  lawn,  while  they  personally  superin- 
tended the  building  of  their  home  and  the  laying  out  of  the  grounds 
and  garden. 

The  garden  is  surrounded  by  an  unique  scalloped  brick  wall. 
A  broad,  graveled  walk  extended  from  east  to  west  as  one  entered, 
and  another  from  north  to  south  crossed  it  in  the  middle,  where 
there  was  a  latticed  summer-house  covered  with  jasmine  and 
honeysuckle  and  fitted  with  seats  inside.  The  walk  from  north  to 
south  was  bordered  by  grapes  carefully  trained  on  lattices,  while 
on  either  side  of  the  entrance  walk  were  raised  borders,  where 
many  shrubs  and  flowers  grew.  On  the  north  and  south  of  this 
walk  were  flower-beds  in  circles  and  hectagonals  where  every  sort 
of  sweet  old-time  bloom  was  cultivated.  Along  the  borders  were 
arborvitae  trees  at  intervals,  and  under  them  grew  lilies  of  the 
valley  in  profusion,  and  such  shrubs  as  calycanthus,  smoke  trees, 
tamarisk  and  English  laburnum  with,  here  and  there,  fine  box- 
bushes. 

In  each  scallop  of  the  brick  wall  was  a  raised  mound,  covered 
with  violets,  out  of  which  grew  a  rosebush.  Against  the  southern 
walls  pomegranates  and  figs  ripened  to  perfection  and  French 
artichokes  were  successfully  cultivated.  The  figs  bear  abundantly 
to  this  day,  but  the  pomegranates  have  disappeared  with  the  passing 
of  the  skilled  gardeners. 

A  giant  pecan  tree  on  the  lawn  thrives  as  well  as  if  in  its  native 

[■59] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

soil.  Just  back  of  the  garden — down  the  shore — is  the  family 
burying  ground  surrounded  with  a  high  brick  wall.  Here  lies  the 
remains  of  William  H.  Roy,  eldest  son  of  James  H.  Roy  and 
Elizabeth  Booth,  and  beside  him  are  the  graves  of  his  first  wife, 
Anne  Seddon,  and  of  his  second  wife,  Euphan  McCrae.  His  only 
son  who  grew  to  man's  estate,  James  H.  Roy,  died  unmarried,  and 
his  sisters,  the  daughters  of  Anne  Seddon,  were  Mrs.  John  C. 
Rutherfoord  (Anne  S.),  of  "Rock  Castle,"  and  Mrs.  Thomas  H. 
Carter  of  "Pampatike."  Mrs.  McCrae  Washington,  Mrs.  Mc- 
Kendree  Boyd,  and  Mrs.  Richard  H.  Goldsborgh,  were  the  chil- 
dren of  Euphan  McCrae,  his  second  wife,  and  Mrs.  Richard 
Goldsborgh  (Ellen  Douglas  Roy),  his  youngest  and  only  surviving 
child,  now  lives  at  "Green  Plains."  The  dainty  beauty  of  her  face 
and  figure  stand  out  in  the  graceful  old  home  like  an  exquisite 
miniature  in  an  appropriate  frame. 

During  the  War  Between  the  States,  Green  Plains  was  ravaged 
by  the  Federal  troops.  Gunboats  came  up  the  river  and  maraud- 
ing parties  scoured  the  neighborhood,  plundering  and  destroying 
all  they  could  not  take  with  them.  Mr.  Roy  died  before  this 
period  and  his  widow  and  younger  daughters  lived  In  a  constant 
state  of  anxiety.  They  had  to  endure  stoically  the  sight  of  their 
most  precious  possessions  being  stolen  before  their  eyes,  or  be  in- 
sulted by  officers,  as  well  as  men.  Fortunately  all  wine  and  liquor 
had  been  secreted  within  the  walls  and,  in  spite  of  persistent  search 
and  tapping  of  the  panelling,  It  was  not  discovered,  or  worse  than 
insults  might  have  resulted. 

Green  Plains  is  one  of  the  few  estates  which  still  remains  in 
the  family  of  Its  original  owners,  and  Is  kept  up  so  as  to  be  a 
pleasure  to  all  who  go  there. 

Anne  Seddon  Rutherfoord  Johnson. 


[i6o] 


POPLAR   GROVE 

N  the  year  1725  Gloucester  County  embraced  that 
little  enclosure  ( for  it  is  almost  entirely  surrounded 
by  water)  which  is  now  Mathews  County.  It  was 
here  that  Samuel  Williams,  of  Northumberland 
County,  received  from  George  III  a  large  grant  of 
land  which  passed  to  his  son,  Thomas,  who  built 
the  west  wing  of  Poplar  Grove  in  1782.  Ten  years  later  it  was 
sold  to  John  Patterson,  and  he,  it  is  said,  having  obtained  the  same 
architect  who  designed  Mount  Vernon,  added  greatly  to  the  house. 

About  this  time,  the  feeling  between  the  two  parties — Whig 
and  Tory — was  very  keen  and  Mr.  Patterson,  in  honor  of  his 
political  affiliations,  called  his  home  Poplar  Grove  and  planted  on 
its  lawn  numbers  of  beautiful  Lombardy  poplars,  the  symbol  of 
the  Whigs. 

With  the  lawn  sloping  down  a  few  hundred  feet  to  the 
water,  a  magnificent  view  is  commanded  of  Mobjack  Bay.  To 
the  south,  just  fourteen  miles  away,  is  Yorktown,  and  it  was  from 
there  that  schooners,  laden  with  corn  to  grind  for  George  Wash- 
ington's army,  sailed  around  York  Spit  and  across  the  bay  to  the 
old  mill  at  Poplar  Grove.  The  old  mill  is  still  standing  and  is  a 
continual  inspiration  to  artists. 

To  the  west  of  the  house,  and  extending  almost  to  the  water's 
edge,  was  the  old  garden  and,  across  the  north  end,  ran  a  serpentine 
brick  wall.  Through  the  influence  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  this  type 
of  wall  had  become  the  vogue  in  Virginia  about  that  date.  Separat- 
ing the  garden  from  the  lawn,  ran  a  low  brick  wall  capped  with 
old  English  crescent-shaped  brick.  A  part  of  the  serpentine  wall 
and  all  of  the  little  wall  still  stand. 

Like  so  many  of  the  old  gardens,  the  flowers  and  vegetables 
were  in  the  same  enclosure.     Along  the  central  walk  were  three 

[161] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

large  arbors  covered  with  Cherokee  roses.  From  the  end  of  this 
walk,  two  rows  of  white  and  purple  fig  bushes  extended.  Some  of 
these  still  remain,  along  with  the  old  boxwood  trees;  with  numbers 
of  yellow  tea  and  moss  roses,  whose  bushes  are  known  to  be  a 
hundred  years  old.  The  moisture  of  the  atmosphere  probably  ac- 
counts for  the  longevity  of  these  old  roses. 

Under  the  boxwood  trees  the  periwinkle  Is  still  profuse.  The 
yellow  jessamine,  the  crepe  myrtle,  rose  of  Sharon,  lily  of  the  valley 
and  jonquils  still  thrive  as  the  daisies  of  the  field.  The  smoke 
trees  and  flowering  almond  have  gone,  but  the  old  Scuppernong 
grape  arbor  has  been  restored. 

At  the  death  of  John  Patterson,  Poplar  Grove  passed  to  his 
daughter,  who  married  Christopher  Tompkins,  the  father  of  Miss 
Sally  Tompkins,  the  beloved  little  "captain"  of  the  Confederacy, 
who  lived  here  until  she  was  sixteen. 

Captain  Sally  Tompkins,  during  the  War  Between  the  States, 
devoted  herself  and  her  fortune  to  the  care  of  sick  and  wounded 
Confederate  soldiers  in  Richmond.  Appreciating  the  value  and 
earnestness  of  her  work,  and  realizing  the  necessity  for  as  much 
freedom  as  it  was  possible  to  have,  General  Lee  gave  her  a  com- 
mission with  the  rank  of  Captain,  C.  S.  A.  It  was  through  her 
influence  that  Christ  Church,  in  Kingston  Parish,  was  established. 
In  its  yard  she  now  lies  buried  in  the  same  grave  with  her  sister, 
preferring  this  to  the  family  burying  ground  at  Poplar  Grove. 
The  latter  is  surrounded  by  a  high  brick  wall,  sheltered  by  four 
giant  pines.  These  old  trees  tower  so  high  above  the  rest  of  the 
landscape  that  sailors  out  in  the  bay  use  them  as  a  landmark. 

A  winding  lane  of  half  a  mile,  with  cedar  and  locust  trees  on 
either  side,  leads  from  the  public  road  to  the  house.  The  poplar 
trees  which  were  the  glory  of  the  lawn,  and  which  gave  the  estate 
its  name,  have  long  since  gone,  hot  they  have  been  succeeded  by 
elms  and  maples,  lindens  and  walnut  trees. 

The  place  passed  from  the  Tompkins'  to  the  family  of  John 
Tabb,  who  sold  it  to  Christopher  Brown.     At  the  death  of  the 

[162] 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


latter,  it  went  to  his  daughter,  who  married  Judge  Taylor  Garnett, 
and  whose  family  lived  there  until  his  death. 

In  19 lo  Poplar  Grove  was  bought  by  Arthur  St.  Clair  Butler, 
who  added  the  Colonial  columns  and  modern  conveniences.  Thanks 
to  him,  the  fields  now  produce  the  crops  of  the  olden  days,  and 
the  beauties  of  the  old  garden  have  been  restored  to  a  great  extent. 

Mary  Butler  Pollard. 


[163] 


TODDSBURY 


^^^^^ 

^^^v 

HERE  is  no  more  ideal  place  in  America  for  coun- 
try seats  than  along  North  River,  an  estuary  of 
Mobjack  Bay.  The  name  of  this  sheet  of  water 
was  given  it  by  the  sailors  of  long  ago,  who,  when 
the  echoes  of  their  songs  and  voices  were  thrown 
back  by  the  lush  green  shores,  accused  these  silent 
banks  of  mocking  "Jack"  the  sailor.  Hence  the  name  Mock  Jack, 
now  known  no  more,  but  substituted  by  the  meaningless  one  of 
Mobjack. 

Early  in  the  seventeenth  century  Thomas  Todd,  emigrant, 
patented  extensive  lands  in  Maryland  and  Virginia;  he  was  Burgess 
of  Baltimore  County  in  1674-75,  and  in  1676  died  at  sea  while 
on  a  voyage  in  the  "good  ship  Virginia."  With  his  will  filed  in 
the  clerk's  office  at  Towson,  the  county  seat  of  Baltimore  County, 
Maryland,  and  in  which  he  left  Toddsbury  to  his  son,  Thomas, 
there  is  a  letter  addressed  "this  to  my  son,  Thomas  Todd,  at  his 
home  on  North  River,  Gloucester  County,  Virginia,  with  all  speed," 
and  an  old  record  says  of  the  emigrant  "he  was  very  riche."  There 
are  many  descendants  of  Thomas  Todd  of  Maryland  and  Virginia 
scattered  over  the  United  States.  Many  of  them  have  taken  high 
positions,  an  ancestor  of  the  Kentucky  branch  of  this  family  having 
been  a  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States. 

In  their  veins  runs  the  blood  of  the  poet  Lovelace  and  of  our 
first  Virginia  poet,  George  Sandys.  In  Virginia,  three  of  the  de- 
scendants of  Thomas  Todd  are  on  the  bench — Judge  Beverly 
Crump,  Judge  Crump  Tucker  and  Judge  John  Rutherfoord.  An- 
other, Dr.  Beverly  Tucker,  an  eminent  nerve  specialist,  is  also  a 
writer  and  poet  of  promise.  In  Maryland  the  families  of  Moale, 
Hoffman  and  Poultney  are  direct  descendants,  and  in  New  York 

[164] 


The      Tidewater     1'  r  a  i  l 


the  Townsend  Burdens,  the  William  R.  Travers  and  Mrs.  Ogden 
Doremus  came  from  the  same  line. 

Christopher  Todd,  great-grandson  of  the  emigrant,  dying  with- 
out issue,  left  Toddsbury  to  his  nephew,  Philip  Tabb,  son  of  Lucy 
Todd  and  Edward  Tabb  of  Amelia  County,  Virginia.  Philip  Tabb 
married  his  first  cousin,  Mary  Mason  Wythe-Booth,  daughter  of 
Elizabeth  Todd  by  her  first  husband,  Nathaniel  Wythe  of  Williams- 
burg, and  widow  of  George  Booth  of  Belleville.  In  this  manner, 
although  Toddsbury  passed  from  the  name  of  Todd,  it  was  owned 
by  two  direct  heirs  of  the  emigrant. 

Mary  Mason  Wythe-Booth-Tabb  was  a  personage  in  her  day, 
as  was  her  husband,  Philip  Tabb.  Their  home  was  the  centre  of 
the  county's  hospitality,  and  Mrs.  Tabb  was  a  model  for  wives, 
mothers  and  housekeepers.  While  Philip  Tabb  followed  the 
hounds,  bet  on  horse  races  and  played  cards,  as  did  all  of  the 
gentlemen  of  his  day,  his  wife  became  more  and  more  devout; 
she  joined  the  Methodists  and  the  large  church  in  that  neighbor- 
hood was  built  by  her.  The  story  goes  that  after  providing  a 
bountiful  supper  for  her  husband  and  his  guests,  she  would  retire 
to  the  "chamber"  and  pray  for  their  souls,  while  they  cast  the 
dice,  swore  brave  oaths  and  drank  merrily  till  late  into  the  night. 

The  old  house  is  of  true  Colonial  architecture  and  has  never 
been  remodeled.  The  interior  is  like  a  jewel-box,  so  beautiful  arc 
the  carvings  and  panelings.  The  dining-room,  with  recessed  win- 
dows looking  out  to  North  River  on  two  sides,  is  a  spot  to  sit  and 
dream  in,  and  all  sorts  of  visions  come  unbidden  to  the  visitor. 
Near  the  entrance  gate  is  one  of  the  above-ground  icehouses 
peculiar  to  the  tidewater  country;  it  is  conical  in  shape  and  stands 
on  a  high  mound  overgrown  with  vines.  At  the  back  of  the  house 
is  an  old  dairy  with  overhanging  eaves,  still  in  use.  On  the  east 
of  the  lawn,  which  is  nearly  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  water, 
is  one  of  the  most  ancient  family  burying-grounds  in  Virginia. 
Here  rest  the  ashes  of  seven  generations  of  Todds  and  Tabbs, 
handsome  stones  and  inscriptions  preserving  the  records  from  the 


[165] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

day  of  Thomas  Todd,  emigrant.  Guarded  by  an  ancient  willow 
tree,  this  graveyard  contains  as  many  tombstones  as  any  family 
seat  in  Virginia;  among  these  there  is  one  dated  1703. 

In  1859,  Thomas  Tabb,  son  of  Philip  and  Mary  Mason 
Wythe-Booth-Tabb,  moved  to  Texas  and  the  property  passed  out 
of  his  family.  In  1880  it  was  purchased  by  John  Mott,  of  Long 
Island,  the  father  of  the  present  owner,  Mr.  William  Mott.  The 
children  of  the  latter  have  been  born  and  brought  up  at  Todds- 
bury,  and  they  all  love  and  appreciate  the  history  and  beauties  of 
the  old  Colonial  dwelling;  it  is  to  the  kindness  of  Mrs.  Mott  that 
I  am  indebted  for  the  sketches  of  the  house  and  lawn. 

The  garden  was  situated  on  the  north  side  of  the  house  and  was 
much  neglected  before  the  days  of  the  present  owners,  but  there 
are  descendants  of  the  Tabbs  who  remember  well  its  glories.  It 
was  surrounded  by  a  brick  wall  not  more  than  two  and  a  half  feet 
in  height,  and  on  top  of  this  was  a  wooden  railing,  with  a  gate  also 
of  wood  of  pretty  design.  There  is  a  similar  wall  and  entrance 
in  perfect  preservation  at  Hickory  Hill,  Hanover  County,  the  home 
of  Mr.  Henry  Wickham. 

The  garden,  which  was  a  rectangle  in  form,  was  divided  by  a 
centre  walk  and  cross  walks,  making  squares  for  vegetables  sur- 
rounded by  dwarf  box  hedges,  and  with  narrow  borders  for  flowers 
along  the  edges.  In  these  borders  were  grown  all  of  the  early  and 
late  flowers  of  that  period,  and  at  the  junction  of  the  walks  were 
planted  large  and  small  shrubs,  making  a  diversion  to  the  monot- 
ony of  the  borders  and  hedges.  Just  inside  of  the  gate,  and  across 
the  south  side  of  the  garden,  was  a  broad  walk  with  flower- 
borders  on  either  hand  inside  of  the  box  hedges.  On  the  lawn 
were  set  out  trees  of  various  kinds,  a  very  fine  pecan  and  a  black 
ash  remaining  to  show  the  taste  of  the  early  owners. 

Anne  Seddon  Rutherfoord  Johnson. 


[166] 


WHITE   MARSH 

OLLOWING  the  Tidewater  Trail  from  Gloucester 
Court  House  for  six  miles  southward  over  a  hard 
sand  and  shell  road,  one's  attention  is'  arrested  by 
an  imposing  entrance  which  leads  through  a  cano- 
pied avenue  of  such  magnificent  oaks,  that  the  mid- 
day sun  tapestries  the  driveway  with  shadows. 

These  monarchs  of  Nature's  own  planting  guard  the  approach 
to  White  Marsh  for  half  a  mile.  One  is  impressed  with  the 
majesty  of  the  scene,  and  the  silence  unbroken  except  for  the  twitter 
of  birds.  Here  was  once  the  playground  of  the  Red  Man,  who 
must  have  sighed  at  going,  as  did  Boab-dil  looking  back  once  more 
upon  his  beloved  Alhambra. 

The  main  entrance,  to  the  left  of  the  lawn,  discloses  a  circular 
driveway  leading  to  the  high-pillared  house  gleaming  white  against 
its  background  of  crepe  myrtle  and  magnolia. 

From  the  portico,  another  vista  is  seen  through  the  lawn  of 
twenty  acres,  where  leafy  branches  from  the  Orient  lock  arms 
with  those  of  the  Occident  in  a  brotherhood  of  blended  beauty. 
Forty-seven  magnolia  grandiflora,  averaging  twelve  inches  in 
diameter,  lend  grandeur,  winter  and  summer,  to  lawn  and  gardens. 
Crepe  myrtles,  hoary  with  age,  send  their  naked  branches,  capped 
with  feathery  blossoms  of  white,  lavender  and  rose,  high  among 
the  limbs  of  towering  trees. 

The  bronze  beech  is  here,  the  European  horse  chestnut,  scarlet 
hawthorne,  English  yew  and  walnut.  The  varnish  tree,  white  and 
black  ash,  sweet  gum,  elm,  linden,  tulip  tree,  locust,  sycamore,  and, 
practically  every  species  of  oak,  maple,  and  pine  interlace  their 
branches  over  acres  of  greensward !  It  is  marvelous  how  abundantly 
the  grass  grows  beneath  so  dense  a  shade. 

Trees — majestic  trees,  everywhere ! 

[167] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Wandering  back  to  the  house,  one  pauses  enthralled  by  the 
size  and  perfect  proportions  of  a  Ginkgo  biloba,  or  maidenhair 
tree,  full  eighty  feet  tall,  with  its  trunk  measuring  twenty  inches 
in  diameter,  standing  sentinel  at  the  right  of  the  entrance.  This 
tree  is  a  fortune  in  Itself — not  commercially,  perhaps,  but  because 
of  its  marvelous  beauty. 

To  the  right  of  this  is  a  giant  arbor  vltae,  cropped  lov/  to 
form  a  playhouse  for  children,  its  top  a  tangle  of  Cherokee  roses. 
Nearby,  a  massive  hemlock  seems  to  frown  upon  such  levity. 

As  one  wonders  at  the  planting,  the  romance  comes  to  mind  that 
a  certain  John  Tabb,  son  of  Phillip  Tabb,  of  Toddsbury,  wooed 
and  won  the  fair  Evelina  Matilda  Prosser,  who  inherited  the  White 
Marsh  tract  of  three  thousand  acres  from  her  mother.  Their  com- 
bined fortunes  made  John  Tabb  the  wealthiest  man  in  Gloucester 
County.  Mrs.  Tabb  was  loth  to  live  so  far  from  the  social  whirl, 
so  her  husband  offered  to  make  her  the  finest  garden  in  Virginia, 
with  every  tree  and  shrub  that  could  be  grown  in  this  climate,  if 
she  would  but  consent  to  make  her  home  at  White  Marsh. 

It  was  then,  in  1848,  that  the  present  house  was  built  and 
the  lawn  with  Its  priceless  trees  planted.  This  was  no  mean  under- 
taking in  those  days,  when  each  foreign  growth  had  to  be  specially 
Imported.  Thus,  the  collection  stands  a  tribute  to  the  planter's 
good  taste  botanical. 

From  the  rear  portico  of  the  house  are  shown  four  terraces, 
a  long  grape  arbor,  and  vegetable  gardens  with  the  meadows 
beyond. 

Magnolia,  elms  and  crepe  myrtles  fringe  the  terraces  on  both 
sides,  affording  many  alluring  spots  for  eager  lovers,  and  the  names 
Inscribed  upon  window-panes  prove  they  were  not  unfrequented! 

In  by-gone  days  "each  terrace  was  laid  out  in  a  continuation 
of  beds  outlined  by  little  boxwood  bushes  a  foot  high,  and  threaded 
by  grass  walks.  The  flowers  In  these  beds  consisted  mostly  of 
hyacinths,  peonies,  lilies,  pinks,  with  the  usual  annuals  and  roses 
planted  everywhere." 

[168] 


:o 


&N.TR.ANC-&- 


I .:;:.. 


GARmN  AT  WHITfr  MADSH 


Lelia  Scott  Bucha 


Scalloped  Brick  W  all  at  Green  Plains,  Mathews  Count 


Old  Icehouse  at  Toddsbury,  Gloucester  County 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


Snowballs,  lilacs,  flowering  almonds,  spireas  and  mock  oranges 
held  sway  on  the  level  stretch  below  the  terraces,  where  the  honey- 
suckle stealthily  entwined  itself  about  their  branches. 

To  Mrs.  John  Perrin,  of  Baltimore,  a  granddaughter  of  Jghn 
Tabb,  the  writer  is  indebted  for  the  following  description  of  the 
White  Marsh  garden  as  she  knew  it  in  her  girlhood. 

"Grandmother  made  a  specialty  of  roses.  I  have  heard  she 
had  five  hundred  varieties,  which  I  rather  doubt,  though  there  were 
a  great  number.  The  arbors,  of  which  there  were  four — two  on  the 
terraces,  second  and  fourth — and  two  in  the  lower  part,  were  all 
covered  with  white  jessamine  and  running  roses.  So  was  the  long 
porch  at  the  back  of  the  house  overlooking  the  garden.  The  roses 
were  not  the  ramblers  we  have  today,  but  the  sweetest  little  pink 
and  white  ones  *  *  *,  I  can  only  remember  a  few  of  the  names: 
'Cloth  of  Gold,'  'Giant  of  Battles,'  'Safrano,'  'Le  Marque,'  and 
'Lady  Banksia.' 

"The  greenhouses  were  really  wonderful!  One  in  the  garden 
on  the  left  of  the  second  terrace — all  trace  of  which  is  gone  now — 
one  adjoining  the  parlour,  and  one  in  the  front  yard  which  is  also 
gone.  I  have  seen  more  than  one  hundred  night-blooming  cereus 
in  bloom  one  night!" 

With  such  a  wealth  of  blossoms  within  and  without,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  General  Robert  E.  Lee,  who  visited  White  Marsh 
for  the  first  time  in  1870,  stood  at  the  top  of  the  garden  and 
exclaimed,  "This,  indeed,  is  a  beautiful  spot!" 

Beyond  the  shrubbery  a  grape  avenue  extends  the  full  length  of 
the  main  vegetable  garden,  a  part  of  which  in  other  days  was  sub- 
divided into  rectangular  beds  of  small  fruits,  berries,  and  herbs. 
Ten  miles  of  roadway  encompass  the  present  estate,  now  owned 
by  Mr.  IT.  M.  Baruch,  of  New  York. 

Though  the  terraces  no  longer  give  forth  fragrance  and  color  as 
of  yore,  to  the  lover  of  magnificent  trees,  a  pilgrimage  to  this  old 
plantation  holds  a  joy  in  store  that  will  linger  long  in  memory. 

Lelia  Scott  Buchanan. 


[169] 


SHERWOOD 

HEN  Virginia  was  settled  men  were  wont  to  follow 
where  nature  beckoned.  Water  still  supplied 
society  everywhere  with  its  chief  highways.  Trans- 
portation by  land  was  slow,  tedious,  difficult  and 
expensive.  Navigable  streams  were  controlling  fac- 
tors in  trade  and  commerce.  A  well-watered  land 
was  a  populous  and  prosperous  land.  The  many  rivers  that  reach 
out  of  the  inland  sea,  of  which  Virginia  and  Maryland  are  the 
mistresses,  made  for  opulence,  industry,  and  culture. 

The  wealth  and  prominence  of  Gloucester  County  followed  as 
a  natural  consequence  the  fact  that  it  is  bounded  on  the  south  by 
one  river,  on  the  north  by  another,  and  has  two  others  wholly 
within  its  own  borders.  Yet  the  county  is  a  small  one  in  actual  area. 
It  is  questionable  whether  there  is  another  county  in  Virginia,  or 
any  other  State  in  America,  that  has  proprietary  rights  in  four 
such  fine  rivers  as  are  the  York,  Severn,  Ware  and  North.  And 
in  addition  the  whole  eastern  boundary  of  Gloucester  is  washed 
by  Mobjack  Bay.  There  is  small  wonder  that  the  early  settlers 
should  have  flocked  to  it  in  numbers;  or  that  its  scores  of  miles  of 
bay  and  river  front  should  be  dotted  with  fine  colonial  residences. 
Some  of  these  houses  date  back  to  the  seventeenth  century. 
Some  did  not  attain  their  prominence  till  a  hundred  years  later. 
Homes  of  striking  elaborateness  and  beauty  were  still  being  estab- 
lished when  the  nineteenth  century  opened.  Among  these  none  is 
more  noteworthy  than  Sherwood,  which  for  many  years  has  been 
among  the  most  admired  residences  in  Gloucester. 

A  part  of  the  present  Sherwood  house  is  of  colonial  construc- 
tion, but  it  was  not  till  the  first  three  decades  of  the  last  century  had 
elapsed  that  the  old  house  attained  its  present  spacious  dimensions. 
At  that  time  the  property,  which  had  known  a  variety  of  owners 

[170] 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


after  the  county  was  founded,  came  into  the  possession  of  Mr. 
Robert  Colgate  Selden,  and  for  the  last  eighty-odd  years  it  has  been 
identified  with  the  Selden  name.  Mr.  Selden  was  a  native  of  Nor- 
folk; but  his  wife  was  Miss  Courtenay  Brook,  whose  mother, 
Elizabeth  Lewis,  had  inherited  Warner  Hall,  possibly  the  oldest 
and  the  most  celebrated  of  all  the  Gloucester  homesteads.  Warner 
Hall,  though  the  original  house  was  burned  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, is  still  in  the  possession  of  a  descendant  of  that  original 
Warner,  who  came  to  America  in  1628,  and,  some  years  later, 
established  the  estate  that  still  bears  his  name.  It  was  he  who  gave 
to  the  State  of  Virginia  and  the  American  nation  such  distinguished 
great-grandsons  as  George  Washington  and  Robert  E.  Lee,  not  to 
mention  a  score  of  able  men  and  charming  women  of  less  historic 
significance. 

Mrs.  Selden's  association  with  Warner  Hall,  as  well  as  her  close 
relationship  to  most  of  the  leading  Gloucester  families,  probably 
was  the  controlling  factor  in  inducing  her  husband  to  buy  the  Sher- 
wood property,  and  to  develop  there  the  accessories  of  a  famous 
Virginia  home.  Young  Selden  and  his  bride  were  both  evidently 
endowed  with  a  full  measure  of  love  for  country  life,  which  has 
from  the  beginning  been  a  characteristic  of  the  people  of  their 
native  State.  It  is  in  the  blood  of  every  true  Virginian.  Their 
forebears  brought  it  with  them  from  England,  Scotland  and  Wales. 

Sherwood,  in  its  eighty  and  more  years  of  present  existence,  has 
known  but  three  owners — the  builder,  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Eliza- 
beth Lewis  Dimmock,  and  his  granddaughter,  Mrs.  Henry  A. 
Williams,  the  present  owner  who  perpetuates  in  her  Christian  name 
Elizabeth  Warner,  wife  of  the  first  John  Lewis  and  daughter  of  the 
second  Augustine  Warner,  Speaker  of  the  Virginia  House  of  Bur- 
gesses in  1675-6-7  and  8. 

Sherwood  stands  about  a  mile  from  the  public  highway  that 
runs  eastward  through  the  little  peninsular  made  in  Gloucester  by 
the  Severn  and  Ware  Rivers.  Its  back  is  to  the  Ware,  an  arm  of 
which  makes  a  most  attractive  western  boundary  for  the  park, 

[171] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 


garden,  and  one  of  several  orchards.  The  house  and  grounds  of 
Sherwood,  as  the  Seldens  planned  them,  and  as  they  are,  for  the 
most  part,  still  maintained,  occupy  twenty  acres.  From  the  en- 
trance gate,  the  lawn  sweeps  for  half  a  mile  down  to  the  banks 
of  the  Ware  River.  To  the  east  lie  an  orchard,  numerous  farm 
buildings,  and  a  second  orchard.  To  the  west  from  the  entrance, 
are  part  of  the  lawn,  the  beautiful  old  garden  and  a  third  orchard. 

The  house,  flanked  by  the  many  quaint  outbuildings  of  an  ante- 
bellum Virginia  homestead  of  its  dignity,  is  of  three  stories.  A 
wide  veranda  runs  the  full  length  of  two  sides  of  the  building.  The 
first  and  second  floors  have  four  rooms  each,  separated  by  wide 
halls  that  sweep  through  the  building  from  south  to  north.  On 
the  third  floor  there  are  two  rooms  and  another  spacious  hall. 
The  windows  here  are  deeply  recessed  and  topped  by  gables. 

In  the  furnishings  of  the  house  there  are  many  rare  and  lovely 
old  things  in  the  matter  of  pictures,  glass,  silver,  and  mahogany. 
The  wide,  open  fire-places  are  set  off  by  mantelpieces  that  are 
simple  in  design  but  fine  specimens  of  the  classic  period  of  the 
cabinetmaker's  art. 

But  as  charming  as  Sherwood  itself  is,  the  true  glory  of  the 
place  is  to  be  found  in  its  yard  and  garden.  The  former  contains 
many  superb  trees,  of  which  there  are  no  less  than  a  score  of 
varieties.  The  latter  is  bounded  on  all  four  of  its  sides  by  giant 
trees  of  several  kinds.  Roughly  speaking,  the  garden  is  two  hun- 
dred by  four  hundred  feet.  The  entire  eastern  side  is  occupied 
by  a  double  row  of  crepe  myrtles.  Beneath  them  runs  a  broad 
walk,  edged  with  slate,  and  flanked  on  either  side  by  flower  and 
shrubbery  beds,  ten  feet  wide.  The  crepe  myrtles  have  attained  a 
height  of  fifty  feet.  In  some  instances  eiajht  and  ten  stems  spring 
from  a  single  base  more  than  a  foot  in  diameter.  When  in  full 
bloom,  as  they  are  during  the  greater  part  of  July  and  August, 
they  present  a  gorgeous  spectacle  of  color — great  pink  pyramids 
forming  an  avenue  four  hundred  feet  in  length.  From  the  entrance 
gate  a  similar  walk  cuts  through  to  the  western  arm  of  the  river. 


[172] 


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Metropolitan  Engraving  Company 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


This,  too,  is  bordered  and  arched  with  towering  trees  and  shrub- 
bery. One  looks  down  a  fine  vista  of  two  hundred  feet  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  water.  The  western  slope  of  the  garden  breaks  away 
suddenly  in  a  broad  terrace  to  the  bank  of  the  little  estuary  of  the 
Ware.  Along  this  bank,  willows  and  cedars  rise  to  a  great  height, 
the  nearer  distance  being  filled  with  crepe  myrtle,  Pride  of  China, 
lesser  trees,  and  large  clumps  of  shrubs.  The  terrace  and  its  banks 
are  given  over  to  bulbs,  ferns,  and  grasses. 

The  walk  at  the  northern  end  of  the  garden  is  edged  with 
numerous  fruit  trees.  Originally  the  wide  central  space,  allotted  to 
vegetables,  berry  bushes,  asparagus  beds,  etc.,  was  divided  into 
four  squares,  separated  by  lesser  walks  than  those  which  sweep 
around  the  four  sides.     These  have  now  been  abandoned. 

The  space  originally  designed  to  contain  flowers  and  flower- 
ing or  ornamental  plants  comprises  between  forty  and  fifty  thou- 
sand square  feet.  In  it  will  be  found  today  many  of  the  original 
shrubs  and  bushes  placed  there  by  the  Seldens.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that,  in  eighty-odd  years,  they  have  achieved  a  growth  which 
renders  many  of  them  conspicuously  fine  specimens  of  their  several 
varieties.  A  hastily-made  catalogue  compiled  recently  showed  the 
garden  to  contain  more  than  forty  kinds  of  shrubs  and  flower- 
ing trees.  The  display  of  lilies  is  especially  intensive  and  fine. 
Iris  of  every  hue;  great  beds  of  tiger  lilies;  lilies,  white  and  yellow, 
and  of  other  colors.  These  for  the  spring  and  summer.  In  the 
autumn  thousands  of  chrysanthemums,  dispersed  in  clumps  that 
vary  from  one  or  two  stems  to  a  hundred  or  more,  keep  the  eye 
w^ell  occupied. 

The  abiding  interest  and  the  chief  distinction  of  the  Sherwood 
garden  are  the  "old"  things  it  contains.  There  is  a  gnarled  smoke 
tree  the  trunk  of  which  is  nearly  two  feet  in  diameter.  Down 
another  walk  a  yaupon  tree,  a  veritable  cluster  of  stems,  has  at- 
tained a  height  of  thirty-odd  feet.  By  its  side  there  is  a  Camelia 
japonica  that  might  grace  the  lawn  as  a  shade  tree.  Before  it 
came  to  Sherwood,  it  had  formed  a  single  item  in  a  bridal  bouquet, 

[173] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

four-score  years  ago.  You  will  find  here  the  yaupon  trees  in  great 
profusion;  huge  clumps  of  bouquet  and  bridal  wreath  spirea,  snow- 
ball, mock-orange,  California  gold-leaf  privet,  flowering  horse-chest- 
nut, deutzia,  lilac,  yucca,  flowering  pomegranate,  althea,  and  butter- 
fly plant  or  buddleia.  About  the  bases  of  the  great  crepe  myrtles  is 
planted  yellow  jasmine  which  sets  the  garden  aflame  in  the  spring- 
time, when  the  trees  and  shrubs  are  just  beginning  to  bud.  On  the 
fences  honeysuckle  and  trumpet  vine  have  massed  themselves  into  a 
veritable  hedge.  The  roses  comprise  many  of  the  old  June  and  ever- 
blooming  varieties.  Some  of  them  rise  from  base-stems  a  foot  in 
thickness  and  reach  to  a  height  which  enables  them  to  hold  their 
own  with  the  larger  and  more  formal  shrubs.  At  the  southern 
extremity  of  the  eastern  walk  rises  a  well-trimmed  tower  of 
wistaria.  At  its  foot  is  massed  a  great  bed  of  lilies  of  the  valley. 
A  little  to  the  north,  the  same  walk  is  spanned  by  a  great  arbor  of 
yellow  jasmine  at  the  foot  of  which  are  bedded  iris  of  many  hues. 
Wherever  one  turns,  the  garden  is  reminiscent  of  another  cen- 
tury, because  of  the  prominence  given  to  flowers  that  were  popular 
with  our  great-grandparents.  Possibly,  you  would  scarcely  recog- 
nize some  of  them  by  the  names  colloquially  given  them  by  those 
charming  ladies.  "Red-hot  pokers,"  "butter  and  eggs,"  "fair  maids 
of  February,"  "butterfly  plants,"  yellow  and  red  cowslips,  sage, 
lavender,  balsam,  blue  bottles,  mourning  brides,  and  the  old  Roman 
hyacinths,  which  were  so  much  more  graceful  than  their  more 
modern  sisters.  There  is,  indeed,  an  ineffable  something  imparted 
to  a  garden  by  age  which  time  alone  may  supply.  The  best  of 
taste  may  not  provide  its  equivalent  overnight.  Money  cannot  buy 
it  out  of  hand.  It  comes  with  the  progress  of  many  years  and  the 
vicissitudes  of  many  seasons.  Just  when  a  garden  becomes  an 
"old"  garden  one  may  not  readily  say.  But  once  a  garden  may  be 
so  designated,  it  has  attained  a  beauty  and  a  dignity  all  its  own. 
It  is  the  fact  that  the  Sherwood  garden  enjoys  this  distinction  in 
high  degree  that  lends  to  it  no  small  part  of  its  attractiveness 
and  charm.  John  Marshall. 

[174] 


BELLEVILLE 

ORTH  RIVER,  an  arm  of  Mobjack  Bay,  Is  a  lake- 
like  sheet  of  water  around  whose  shores  clustered 
the  seats  of  "The  Mighty"  before  the  War  Be- 
tween the  States.  Here  were  the  estates  of  the 
Tallaferros,  the  Tabbs,  the  Roys,  the  Dabneys,  and 
others;  but,  of  them  all,  none  had  Colonial  signifi- 
cance except  Belleville  and  Toddsbury — the  homes  of  the  Booths 
and  the  Tallaferros — of  the  Todds  and  the  Tabbs. 

Belleville  was  remodeled  by  Its  latest  owners,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Allmand  Blow.  A  pillared  portico  now  replaces  the  simple 
Colonial  entrance  of  the  English  cottage,  said  to  have  been  built 
In  the  seventeenth  century  by  Thomas  Booth,  a  member  of  a  family 
of  great  antiquity  and  distinction  In  the  counties  of  Chester  and 
Lancaster,  England.  (See  College  Peerage.)  In  the  old  Booth 
burying-ground,  near  the  end  of  Ware  Neck,  In  Gloucester  County, 
may  be  seen  tombs  with  armorial  bearings  that  date  from  an  early 
period  of  the  Virginia  Colony.  The  Booths  intermarried  with  the 
Throckmortons,  the  Cookes,  the  Carys,  the  Wythes,  the  Kendalls, 
the  Lees,  the  Pages,  and  the  Armlsteads,  so  were  connected  by 
blood  with  nearly  every  family  of  note  in  what  was  called,  then  as 
now.  Tidewater  Virginia. 

Originally  there  was  only  a  large  vegetable  garden  laid  off  in 
squares  defined  by  box-hedges  and  flower-borders,  like  many  of  the 
gardens  of  Colonial  days. 

Frances,  the  daughter  of  George  Wythe  Booth,  married  Warner 
Taliaferro,  thus  bringing  the  Belleville  property  Into  the  possession 
of  the  latter  family.  After  her  death,  her  husband  married  a 
second  time  and  brought  to  the  old  home,  as  a  bride  of  sixteen. 
Miss  Leah  Seddon.  The  second  Mrs.  Taliaferro,  who  became  the 
chatelaine  of  Belleville  in  1825,  was  the  daughter  of  Susan  Alex- 

[175] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

ander  and  Thomas  Seddon,  of  Fredericksburg,  and  a  sister  of 
James  A.  Seddon,  Secretary  of  War  of  the  Confederate  States. 

For  seventy  years  she  remained  its  mistress,  and  it  was  during 
that  period  that  the  garden  and  grounds  of  Belleville  were  laid 
off  and  developed. 

There  were  two  especial  features  to  be  considered: 

First — The  river  which  at  Belleville  sweeps  around  the  grounds 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  it  nearly  a  peninsula.  Mrs.  Taliaferro, 
unusually  gifted  with  taste  and  judgment,  used  this  as  a  basis  to 
work  upon.  On  the  broad  lawn  in  front  and  on  one  side  of  the 
house  she  had  planted  singly  and  in  groups  trees  which  are  still 
standing  in  their  strength.  Among  them  were  the  live  oak  trees, 
Cottonwood,  tulip-poplar  and  magnolia;  there  were  also  apple,  and 
peach  trees;  plums,  cherries  and  apricots,  which  gave  bloom  as  well 
as  fruit.  Holly  trees  were  planted  in  clumps,  while  a  few  hand- 
some mimosas  lent  color  and  fragrance. 

Along  the  bank  of  the  river,  cedars  were  planted  at  intervals. 
Near  the  flower-beds  on  the  green  in  the  rear  of  the  house  were 
many  crepe  myrtles;  there,  too,  grew  altheas,  lilacs,  bridal-wreath, 
snow-balls,  smoke  trees  and  yuccas.  Fig  bushes  and  pomegranates 
were  also  cultivated  successfully  in  this  old  garden.  Modern  ex- 
perts in  landscape-gardening  and  planting  might  take  lessons  from 
this  Virginia  gentlewoman  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  second  feature  lay  in  the  fact  that  in  planting  her  flowers, 
Mrs.  Taliaferro  massed  various  colors  in  separate  beds.  There 
was  infinite  variety  in  the  coloring  of  the  borders,  but  each  bed 
displayed  a  mass  of  bloom  of  the  same  color.  She  used,  in  great 
profusion,  every  sort  of  flower  known  in  that  day,  and  arranged 
them  with  such  exquisite  taste  that  the  resulting  harmony  in  color 
and  form  constituted  the  glory  of  the  Belleville  garden. 

Among  the  flowers  were  the  following:  snowdrops,  crocus,  daf- 
fodils of  many  varieties.  The  small  purple  and  tall  white  and  purple 
iris,  tulips,  cowslips,  narcissi,  violets,  lilies  of  the  valley,  and  the 
single   white    hyacinth   grew   in   great   profusion    in    the   borders. 

[176] 


],clia   Scf.tt    lUicl 


The     Tidewater     Trail 

Mignonette,  heliotrope,  four-o'clocks,  lady-slippers,  and  blue  Can- 
terbury bells  came  year  after  year.  The  larger  varieties  of  lilies 
were  there  with  stocks  and  hollyhocks  for  background,  while  many 
roses  flourished  in  the  mild  climate,  especially  the  musk  rose,  the 
salmon-tea  and  the  microphylla.  Geraniums  were  used  in  the  beds; 
in  the  large  rustic  baskets,  too,  and,  in  the  autumn,  chrysanthemums 
and  other  late  flowers  bloomed  often  as  late  as  Christmas.  Peri- 
winkle covered  what  might  have  been  bare  spaces,  and  over  the 
numerous  arbors  were  trained  white-star  jasmine,  yellow  jasmine, 
honeysuckle — white  and  coral — in  contrast  to  climbing  roses.  And 
over  some,  grapevines  grew,  affording  a  deep  and  grateful  shade. 

The  outer  boundary  of  lawn  and  garden,  which  were  as  one, 
was  formed  by  the  blue  waters  of  North  River.  The  completed 
work  was  marked  by  the  simplicity  and  harmony  that  belong  to 
nature  itself,  arranged  with  a  taste  so  remarkable  that  many  ob- 
servers who  visited  Belleville  have  left  their  testimony  that  both 
lawn  and  garden  were  glorious  in  beauty  and  symmetry. 

In  a  large  octagonal  summer-house,  near  the  river  bank,  the 
ladies  of  the  family  were  accustomed  to  sit  on  bright  mornings 
with  their  sewing  and  embroidery,  while  some  one  read  aloud  a 
pleasing  book. 

To  Mrs.  Henry  Alexander  White,  daughter  of  Susan  Talia- 
ferro and  Judge  Beverly  Wellford  and  granddaughter  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Warner  Taliaferro,  of  Belleville,  I  am  indebted  for  facts  con- 
cerning this  garden. 

Anne  Seddon  Rutherfoord  Johnson. 


[177] 


•iSpT'iJIff^ 


HAMPSTEAD 

OME  twenty  miles  northeast  of  Richmond,  in  New 
Kent  County,  on  the  highlands  overlooking  the  rich 
fields  which  border  the  Pamunkey  River,  stands  in 
stately  simplicity  Hampstead.  North  of  the  house, 
the  hill  slopes  suddenly  to  the  valley  of  the 
Pamunkey,  giving  a  magnificent  view  of  the  low- 
lands framed  by  the  distant  hills.  This  view  is  suggestive  of  the 
valley  of  the  Medway,  in  the  County  of  Kent,  England.  It  was 
for  this  county  that  New  Kent,  Virginia,  was  named. 

In  the  year  1827,  Hampstead  was  built  by  Conrad  Webb, 
the  owner  of  vast  acres  in  that  section  of  Virginia.  It  was  told 
by  the  oldest  inhabitant,  a  descendant  of  one  of  his  many  slaves, 
that  upon  the  occasion  of  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone,  the  proud 
owner,  holding  the  hand  of  his  young  wife,  walked  three  times 
around  the  foundation  and  had  her  lay  the  first  brick,  using  a  silver 
trowel  provided  for  the  ceremony. 

There  they  built  the  stately  dwelling  with  its  four  stories,  its 
large,  airy  rooms,  and  wide,  circular  stairway.  This  stairway  ex- 
tends from  the  basement  to  the  attic  and  is  one  of  the  most  in- 
teresting features  of  the  house. 

The  long  and  spacious  hall,  which  runs  through  the  house,  is 
broken  midway  by  Corinthian  pillars,  supporting  an  arch,  and  the 
woodwork  throughout  is  carved  to  follow  similar  designs. 

The  floors  are  of  unusual  quality  for  the  period  in  which  they 
were  laid,  and  it  is  said  that  in  selecting  the  timbers  for  them 
Mr.  Webb  made  what  was  then  a  long  and  arduous  trip  to  Norfolk, 
to  secure  trees  which  had  been  cut  and  seasoned  for  masts. 

One  part  of  the  English  basement  originally  had  built-in  book 
.  shelves  and  was  used  as  a  library.     In  this  basement  are  also  the 

[178] 


;^K|j?-;^.           ■-■■■      ^. 

gH  ^ :« 

^^ 

.-1   Corner   of  the   Sabine   Hall   Garden 


Formal  Flower  Beds  at  Sabine  Hall 


The     Tidewater     Trail 

wine-cellar  and  the  fat-cellar,  the  latter  used  for  the  storage  of 
meats. 

But  it  is  in  the  wide  lawn  and  old-fashioned  garden  that  one 
realizes  the  real  charm  of  the  place.  The  brick  walk  is  edged  on 
either  side  by  large  boxwood,  and  a  sun  dial  has  been  placed  on  the 
original  column  in  the  center  of  the  box  circle  to  mark  the  time  as 
one  did  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago.  Shading  the  sun  dial  is  an  un- 
usually large  mimosa  tree,  its  glory  of  bloom  in  summer  attracting 
many  humming-birds  which  add  glints  of  color  to  the  already 
beautiful  spot. 

Conspicuous  among  the  garden  trees  is  an  old  magnolia  with 
a  circumference  of  more  than  twelve  feet.  This  was  somewhat 
the  appearance  of  an  English  oak  and  is  unusually  handsome.  There 
is  a  story  that  the  boxwood,  that  once  adorned  the  terraces,  was 
taken  to  form  a  maze  in  a  neighboring  county. 

The  wide  lawn  has  a  remarkable  variety  of  old-fashioned 
shrubs  and  trees.  Magnolias,  wonderfully  suited  to  the  climate, 
are  there  in  their  glory,  also  lindens,  elms,  tulip,  poplars,  white 
pine,  and  many  other  trees,  including  English  walnuts  and  pecans. 
One  of  the  latter  stands  with  a  spread  of  more  than  a  hundred  feet. 
This  interesting  collection  testifies  to  the  love  and  care  bestowed 
by  the  founders  of  the  home  nearly  a  century  ago. 

As  was  the  custom  in  those  days,  the  family  graveyard  is  near 
the  house.  It  lies  in  a  secluded  corner  of  the  lawn,  surrounded  by 
a  low  brick  wall.  There  rests  the  only  son  and  heir.  His  death  at 
the  age  of  twelve  years  was  the  tragedy  of  the  hopeful  parents  and 
caused  the  home  built  with  such  care  to  descend  to  a  collateral 
branch  of  the  Webb  family. 

The  present  owners  of  the  place  have  planted  the  old  enclosure 
as  a  little  rose  garden  with  the  time-worn  tombstones  resting 
among  the  flowers. 

Not  far  from  the  terraced  garden,  and  standing  between  it  and 
the  house,  is  the  chimney  of  the  original  outside  kitchen.  This 
chimney,  with  its  two  Dutch  ovens.  Is  In  size  eight  by  fourteen  feet 

[179] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

and  Is  now  used  as  a  picturesque  water  tower  with  the  farm  bell 
hanging  midway.  At  its  base  is  a  great  bed  of  red-stemmed  mint — 
that  pungent  herb  reminiscent  of  bygone  joys  when  the  making  of 
a  mint-julep  was  not  a  lost  art. 

With  keen  appreciation  of  the  architectural  beauty  and  value  of 
the  place,  Hampstead  was  bought  by  William  J.  Wallace,  in  1903, 
and  restored  without  changing  the  original  design.  When  pur- 
chased, practically  all  of  the  flowering  shrubs  had  been  removed 
from  the  lawn  as,  after  falling  into  alien  hands,  the  old  place  had 
been  much  abused.  There  were  large  gaps  in  the  boxwood  circle 
and  hedges,  made  by  the  stock  which  was  permitted  to  wander  at 
will.  Pigs  had  been  running  wild  in  the  area,  much  to  the  detrac- 
tion of  both  lawn  and  shrubbery.  Even  the  great  house  had  been 
commandeered  to  serve  them,  one  enterprising  tenant  having  built 
a  trough  to  run  out  of  the  north  drawing-room  window  as  an  easy 
means  of  disposing  of  garbage,  or  feeding  the  pigs  from  grain 
stored  in  some  of  the  second-floor  rooms. 

It  has  been  the  policy  of  the  present  owners  to  work  from  the 
house  outwards,  replanting  shrubs  and  flowers  in  the  immediate 
surroundings — at  the  base  of  the  house;  by  the  steps;  in  front  of 
the  old-fashioned  ice-house;  around  the  little  office  on  the  lawn 
and  in  other  places  of  that  kind  before  completing  the  restoration 
of  the  wonderful  old  terraced  garden.  In  this  day  of  scarce  and 
incompetent  labor,  this  garden  seems  more  a  memory  of  what  it 
was,  though  the  original  terraces  themselves  are  still  intact. 

But  to  the  lover  of  old-fashioned  flowers,  the  peculiar  charm 
of  the  terraced  garden  will  be  most  striking.  It  lies  to  the  west  of 
the  house  beyond  the  shade  of  the  lawn  trees.  The  deeply-sodded 
terraces  have  endured  the  waste  of  years,  and  overhanging  them 
are  large  crepe-myrtle  trees  in  pale-pink,  lavender,  and  cerise.  Old- 
fashioned  jonquils  are  there — iris,  narcissi,  peonies,  and  the 
Star  of  Bethlehem.  Cherokee  roses  run  riot  and  the  little  yellow 
Scotch  or  Harrison  rose  has  found  there  a  most  congenial  soil. 

For  those  loving  the  memory  of  the  years  long  gone,  old  songs 

[180] 


i 


! 


The     Tidewater     Trail 


and  old  flowers  play  a  peculiar  part  In  adding  pleasure  to  retrospec- 
tion, so  the  memory  of  Hampstead  will  ever  live  in  the  hearts  of 
those  so  fortunate  as  to  have  known  it. 


Kate  Duval  Harrison. 


[i8i] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 


STRATFORD 

ICHARD  LEE,  of  England,  founder  of  a  family 
which  made  and  brilliantly  shone  in  American  his- 
tory through  two  centuries,  and  who  brought  here 
a  name  destined  to  splendid  immortality,  patented 
in  1640  the  land  on  which  Stratford  House  was 
built.  His  home  was  established  in  a  dense  forest 
of  oak  and  sycamore,  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the  Potomac  where 
it  is  broad,  deep  and  beautiful.  Nothing  remains  or  is  known  of  the 
original  building.  Records  prove  that  it  was  destroyed  by  fire. 
The  house  now  standing  was  built  about  1725.  Evidently  the 
Lees  then  were  in  high  favor  at  the  British  court,  and  by  some 
special  quality  or  service  had  won  the  good  will  of  Queen  Caroline, 
because,  we  are  told  in  Sale's  "Manors  of  Virginia,"  that  she  sent 
Mr.  Lee  ''a  bountiful  present  out  of  her  own  Privy  Purse."  From 
this  gift,  the  Stratford  House,  now  standing,  and  in  which  General 
Robert  E.  Lee  was  born,  was  built. 

Such  a  mansion  puts  before  us  clearly,  after  the  intervening 
decades  and  vicissitudes,  the  customs,  habits  and  mode  of  life  of 
the  period  in  which  it  was  created  and  first  occupied.  In  Itself  it 
is  history:  its  rooms  the  chapters;  its  stories  volumes;  its  furniture 
illustrations;  its  inmates  the  characters;  Its  garden  the  bindings. 

Stratford  House,  with  solid  walls  of  glazed  bricks  and  massive 
rough-hewn  timbers,  represents  and  expresses  well  the  strength  and 
solidity  of  the  sturdy  race  of  Lees  which  has  stood  always  for  what 
was  finest  and  best.  They  have  given  to  their  State  one  governor, 
four  members  of  the  council  of  State,  twelve  members  of  the  House 
of  Burgesses;  to  the  State  of  Maryland  one  governor,  two  coun- 
cillors, three  members  of  the  Assembly;  to  the  American  Revolu- 
tion four  members  of  the  convention  of  1776,  two  signers  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  and  two  brothers  representing  their 
government  at  the  courts  of  Europe.     To  the  Confederate  States 

[185] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

the  Lees  gave  the  great  Commander-in-Chief  of  its  armies  and  four 
other  generals. 

When  Stratford  House  was  built,  the  European  colonists  in 
America  were  few  in  number,  and  widely  separated.  They  were 
hardly  able  to  defend  themselves  against  the  Indians  who  peopled 
the  interior  and  constituted  an  ever-threatening  peril.  The  new- 
comers clung  to  the  coast  line  and  the  banks  of  the  larger  rivers 
flowing  to  the  sea,  as  if  longing  to  maintain  their  water  connection 
with  the  old  country  as  closely  as  possible — like  children  loving  the 
touch  of  the  mother  hand  and  fearing  to  lose  It — and  for  the  prac- 
tical reason  that  the  easiest,  safest,  frequently  the  only,  means  of 
passage  and  transportation  from  point  to  point,  family  to  family, 
was  by  water.  Stratford  House  was  built  years  before  the  moun- 
tains of  Virginia  had  been  explored;  when  the  rich  valley  of  the 
Shenandoah  was  an  unknown  land,  shrouded  by  forest,  mystery 
and  fear,  and  an  expedition  to  discover  It  was  considered  too  dan- 
gerous to  be  undertaken. 

Since  the  stately  shape  of  the  house,  as  It  is,  rose  above  the 
noble  river  this  great  nation  has  been  born  and  come  to  Its  enormous 
strength.  From  the  strip  of  territory  and  the  few  hundreds  of  in- 
habitants stretched  along  the  Atlantic  coast.  It  has  extended  from 
ocean  to  ocean  and  from  the  Great  Lakes  to  the  Gulf. 

The  Stratford  House  is  built  In  the  shape  of  the  letter  H,  with 
a  group  of  four  chimneys  in  each  of  the  wings.  In  one  of  these 
groups  is  a  secret  room,  which  evidently  was  occupied  at  times,  as 
Is  proved  by  candle  grease,  smoke  from  lamps  or  candles,  and 
traces  of  ink  and  grease  on  the  floor.  The  centre  room,  or  library, 
opens  at  each  side  on  the  garden  by  doors  reached  by  stone  steps. 
No  lofty  columned  portico  adorns  the  house.  It  was  built  before 
the  architecture  we  call  "Colonial"  was  generally  adopted  In  this 
country.  Plain  and  well-worn  stone  steps  rise  directly  from  the 
garden  to  the  house.  A  somewhat  unusual  feature  Is  a  square  brick 
house  at  each  corner  of  the  main  building,  a  short  distance  away, 
used  respectively  as  kitchen,  laundry,  oflUce  and  cow  barn. 

[i86] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

The  gardens  were  of  the  oval  design  customary  for  homes  of 
important  famihes  before  the  Revolution.  The  shape  probably 
was  adopted  not  only  because  of  its  beauty  and  grace,  but  for  the 
practical  convenience  of  the  driveway  leading  from  the  entrance  of 
the  ground  to  the  house  and  making  it  easy  to  drive  a  vehicle  In 
or  out  without  need  for  turning.  The  oval  at  the  entrance  to  Strat- 
ford was  bordered  with  box,  favorite  evergreen  and  outdoor  decora- 
tion of  the  colonists,  doubtless  brought  from  the  old  home  gardens 
in  the  mother  country.  In  this  oval,  convenient  for  observation, 
stood  the  usual  sundial,  infallible  timekeeper  so  long  as  the  weather 
allowed.  The  box-border  enclosed  the  familiar  flowers  of  the 
English  garden — hollyhock,  wallflower,  cinnammon-pink,  larkspur 
and  the  ever-cherished,  beloved  and  admired  roses. 

Endeavoring  to  get  clearly  into  our  minds  the  picture  of  the  old 
garden  fronting  the  broad  building  with  field  and  forest  on  one  side 
and  river  on  the  other,  we  may  assume  that  the  oval  was  filled  with 
beds,  or  "boutons,"  as  they  were  called,  of  more  or  less  intricate 
and  fanciful  designs,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  times.  There 
was  the  box-walk,  the  box-maze  and  the  rose-embowered  summer- 
house.  Fithian  says  a  celebrated  dancing  master  of  the  day  held 
classes  at  Stratford  on  certain  days,  from  ten  in  the  morning  until 
late  afternoon,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  think  of  the  pupils,  in  the 
intervals  between  lessons,  wandering  amid  the  box-borders,  playing 
at  hide-and-seek  in  the  box-mazes,  or  resting  in  the  shade  of  the 
towering  oaks  and  beeches  which  had  been  left  from  the  original 
growth. 

The  kitchen  garden  at  the  side  of  the  house,  surrounded  by  high 
brick  walls,  held  squares  of  vegetables,  outlined  by  the  usual  iris, 
grown  for  Its  roots,  furnishing  orris  powder  and  perfume.  The 
herb  garden  was  a  part  of  the  equipment  of  every  plantation  house, 
the  medicinal  herbs  furnishing  much  of  the  medicine  used  in  days 
before  convenient  drug  stores  and  doctors  were  in  evidence. 

The  quiet,  dignified  gardens  of  old  Virginia  had  a  charm  all 
their  own,  supervised  as  they  were  by  flower-loving  owners,  with 

['87] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

plenty  of  docile  and  intelligent  labor  at  command.  Ovals,  squares 
and  circles  were  masses  of  color  and  fragrance,  adding  beauty  and 
delight  to  the  beloved  homes. 

In  the  bowered  and  perfumed  privacy  of  these  gardens,  secluded 
from  the  world  by  miles  of  distance  and  density  of  woodland,  lived 
those  great  makers  of  American  history.  Gone  are  some  of  their 
gardens,  but  who  shall  say  what  influence  for  serenity  and  right 
judgment  and  clear-cut  honesty  and  dauntless  courage  were  derived 
from  the  lovely  gardens  and  quiet  and  inspiring  surroundings  of 
their  youth  and  manhood! 

At  Stratford  the  mind  is  turned  inevitably  to  the  childhood 
there  of  Robert  E.  Lee,  a  handsome  little  boy,  with  his  invalid 
mother,  going  from  house  to  garden  around  the  box-edged  flower 
bed;  and  then  on  to  the  after  years  when  that  tall  stately  form,  not 
wearing  the  robes  of  a  conqueror,  was  homeless.  From  within  a 
heart  burdened  with  sorrows — not  his  own — rose  a  longing  for  the 
first  home  he  had  known,  and  he  wrote,  on  Christmas  Day  of  1861, 
in  a  letter  to  his  daughter,  after  Arlington  had  been  taken  from  him, 
"In  the  absence  of  a  home,  I  wish  I  could  purchase  Stratford." 
So  passed  that  grand  figure  into  history,  leaving  to  us  the  rich 
legacy  of  his  high  ideals  of  right  and  duty,  leaving  to  us,  also, 
Stratford  House,  his  birthplace,  of  which  we  can,  with  loving 
and  justified  pride,  quote  the  Psalmist,  "the  Lord  shall  count  when 
He  writeth  up  the  people  that  this  man  was  born  there." 

LiLA  L.  Williams. 


[188] 


The   Box   Garden  at   Mount   Vernon 
The  Garden  of  Mary  and  George  Washington 


1 

^^^^ 

MOUNT   VERNON 

HE  estate  of  Hunting  Creek,  situated  on  the 
Potomac  River  between  Doque  Creek  and  Little 
Hunting  Creek,  was  an  original  grant  by  Lord 
Culpeper  in  1674,  to  John  Washington,  and  in 
1743  was  left  to  Lawrence  Washington  by  his 
father,  Augustine  Washington,  son  of  John. 
On  the  brow  of  the  gentle  slope,  which  ended  at  a  thickly 
wooded  precipitous  river  bank,  Lawrence  built  his  mansion.  This 
is  the  nucleus  of  the  present  group  of  buildings.  Before  it  swept 
the  Potomac  in  a  magnificent  curve,  its  broad  bosom  thronged 
with  graceful  gull,  wild  duck,  and  other  water  fowl,  while  beyond 
the  river  lay  the  green  fields  and  shadowy  forests  of  Maryland. 
This  house  he  called  Mount  Vernon,  in  honor  of  Admiral  Vernon, 
under  whom  Lawrence  Washington  had  served  in  the  expedition 
against  Cartagena,  in  South  America. 

Lawrence  died  in  1752,  and  left  Mount  Vernon  to  his  little 
daughter,  Sarah,  with  the  proviso  in  case  of  her  death  that  it  should 
go  to  his  half-brother,  George,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached. 
Sarah  soon  passed  to  that  other  land  where  so  many  little  ones  are 
gathered  that  it  can  but  be  a  wonderful  place  of  purity  and  beauty, 
and  so  George  Washington  came  into  possession  of  this  beautiful 
tract  of  2,500  acres.  James  Mcintosh  said  of  his  visit  to  Mount 
Vernon: 

"The  combination  of  what  is  grandest  in  nature  with 
whatever  is  pure  and  sublime  in  human  conduct  affects  me 
more  powerfully  than  any  scene  I  have  ever  seen." 

To  think  of  Mount  Vernon  and  not  of  its  owner,  George  Wash- 
ington, would  be  impossible  (so  any  article  on  his  home  must  first 
give  us  the  characteristics  of  its  possessor).     Pictures  that  we  see 

[189] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

are  so  indelibly  impressed  upon  our  minds  that  their  peculiarities 
of  shape  and  form  cling  to  our  memories.  In  this  way  the  Amer- 
ican people  must  always  picture  George  Washington  as  the  dignified 
statesman,  in  full  suit  of  richest  black  velvet,  with  diamond  knee- 
buckles,  and  square  silver  buckles  set  upon  shoes  polished  with  the 
most  scrupulous  neatness,  black  silk  stockings,  ruffles  at  breast  and 
wrists,  his  hair  profusely  powdered  and  projecting  at  the  sides,  tied 
at  the  back  with  a  large  bow  of  black  ribbon. 

But  in  writing  a  description  of  Mount  Vernon,  we  must  go  back 
to  him  as  he  first  became  its  owner;  a  young  man,  a  young  engineer, 
tall,  rather  large-boned,  with  deep-brown  hair,  his  face  rather  long 
and  slightly  marred  by  illness,  a  sunburnt  complexion.  A  young 
man,  sensible,  composed  and  thoughtful,  gentle  in  manner,  in  temper 
reserved,  a  total  stranger  to  rehgious  prejudices,  in  morals  irre- 
proachable, a  young  man  of  determined  bravery  and  independence 
of  spirit.  For  such  a  man  was  Washington  when  he  became  the 
owner  of  Mount  Vernon,  at  twenty  years  of  age,  in  1752. 

Later  his  young  wife  of  great  charm  came  with  her  two  little 
children,  a  boy  of  six  and  a  girl  of  four.  Then  there  were  the  four 
little  children  of  John  Park  Custis  and  his  wife,  Eleanor  Calvert. 
Two  of  these  children,  Eleanor  and  George  Washington  Custis, 
were  brought  up  at  Mount  Vernon  by  General  and  Mrs.  Wash- 
ington, who  took  charge  of  them  after  the  death  of  their  father, 
the  girl  being  at  the  tender  age  of  two  years  and  the  boy  only  six 
months;  in  fact,  there  were  ten  children  born  or  reared  at  Mount 
Vernon.  Later  came  Washington's  nephew,  LaFayette  Washing- 
ton, who  was  entrusted  to  the  General  on  the  death  of  his  father; 
also,  young  George  Washington  LaFayette  stayed  at  Mount 
Vernon.  Later  came  Washington's  nephew,  LaFayette  Washing- 
imprisonment  at  Olmuts  by  the  Prussians. 

Let  us,  therefore,  have  before  us  in  memory's  picture  a  Vir- 
ginian, young  and  vigorous,  his  gentle  wife,  and  the  little  children 
always  playing  around  them.  Let  us  forget  the  lace  and  frills 
and  seek  a  kinder  view  of  the  great  man  and  great  woman.     Besides 

[190] 


Formal  Garden  at  Mount  Vernon 


Mount  Vernon  Garden,  Showing  High  Box  Hedge 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

the  twenty-five  hundred  acres  he  inherited  from  his  brother,  he 
already  had  inherited  the  paternal  estate  on  the  Rappahannock, 
and  to  those  he  added  fifty-five  hundred  acres,  making  him  one  of 
the  wealthiest  planters  and  land-owners  in  Virginia,  having  many 
thousand  acres  of  the  finest  land  along  the  Rappahannock  and 
Potomac.  Mrs.  Washington  was,  also,  wealthy,  having  a  large 
fortune  in  land  and  money,  while  her  two  children  inherited  com- 
fortable fortunes  from  their  father,  Daniel  Parke  Custis.  Wash- 
ington's own  description  of  his  home  is  interesting: 

"A  high  healthy  country,  in  a  latitude  between  the 
extreme  of  heat  and  cold,  on  one  of  the  finest  rivers  in  the 
world,  a  river  well  stocked  with  various  kinds  of  fish,  at  all 
seasons  of  the  year,  and  in  the  spring  the  shad,  herring, 
bass,  carp,  sturgeon,  etc.,  in  abundance.  The  borders  of  the 
estate  are  washed  for  more  than  ten  miles  by  tidewater, 
several  valuable  fisheries  appertaining  to  it,  the  whole  shore, 
in  fact,  one  entire  fishery." 

The  plans  and  specifications  for  the  house,  the  design  for  the 
grounds,  the  survey  of  the  roads  and  gardens  are  all  in  existence, 
drawn  by  Washington's  own  hand.  Every  measurement  was  cal- 
culated and  indicated  with  an  engineer's  exactness,  and  in  every 
arrangement  for  his  home,  he  appears  to  have  made  convenience 
and  durability  the  prime  objects  of  his  planning. 

As  this  article  is  on  the  garden  of  Mount  Vernon,  and  not  on 
the  house,  let  us  join  the  young  engineer,  and  imagine  him  with  his 
loved  dogs — True  Love,  Sweet  Lips,  Mopsy,  Music,  and  Rover — 
at  his  heels  as  he  steps  out  in  an  early  hour  before  breakfast  to 
look  over  his  estate. 

On  the  river  side  is  an  undulating  lawn,  sloping  gently  with  a 
slight  rise  at  each  end.  On  the  points  overlooking  the  river  were 
summer-houses,  resting  places  from  which  to  admire  the  river  or 
to  watch  the  activities  on  the  small  wharf.  Under  the  southeast 
summer-house,  during  Washington's  time,  there  was  a  large,  dry 

[191] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

well,  where  he  kept  meat,  butter,  and  vegetables  cool  in  summer, 
for  icehouses  were  unknown  until  later.  Along  the  lower  edges  of 
the  lawn  were  old  English  haha  walls  to  prevent  the  cattle  from 
approaching  the  house,  but  so  arranged  as  not  to  break  the  view. 
Thiese  same  cattle,  however,  of  which  there  were  many  hundred, 
were  driven  over  the  lawns  whenever  cutting  was  necessary,  as  there 
were  no  lawn  mowers  in  those  days. 

Below  the  lawn  was  a  deer  paddock,  and  the  irregular  shores 
of  the  river.  On  this  southern  lawn  are  beautiful  old  trees,  almost 
all  of  which  were  selected  in  the  woods  and  brought  to  their  present 
situation  by  the  young  engineer  himself.  From  the  wharf  a  long 
steep  ascending  foot-path  and  a  long  easier  driveway  both  led  to 
the  old  burial-place  of  the  family  and  to  the  newer  tomb  which  now 
is  the  mecca  of  all  tourists.  Here  numerous  memorial  trees  have 
been  planted  by  prominent  visitors. 

If  George  Washington  had  not  been  a  great  statesman  and 
patriot,  he  would  at. least  have  been  an  eminent  landscape  artist, 
for  nowhere  in  America  have  we  such  a  splendid  plan  of  landscape 
gardening  carried  out  with  such  accuracy  and  beauty,  and  all  this  by 
a  young  engineer  in  his  twenties.  This  makes  one  think  more  of 
rod  and  chain  and  tripod,  than  of  lace  and  powder  and  velvets! 

In  the  rear  of  the  mansion,  now  the  main  entrance,  was  laid  out 
a  fine  lawn  upon  a  level  surface  comprising  about  two  acres.  Around 
it  he  made  a  serpentine  driveway,  and  he  planted  a  great  variety 
of  trees  on  each  side.  The  list  of  trees  mentioned  in  his  diary 
which  he  selected  in  the  woods  and  had  planted  on  the  grounds  is 
long — including  elm,  beech,  maple,  ash — the  different  varieties  of 
oak — gum,  poplar,  aspen,  mulberry,  dogwood,  redbud,  pine,  cedar, 
magnolia,  hemlock,  many  holly,  and  laurel.  These  trees  terminated, 
by  his  own  description,  "By  two  mounds  of  earth,  one  on  each 
side,  on  which  were  growing  weeping-willow  trees,  leaving  an  open 
and  full  view  of  the  distant  hills.  These  trees  were  sixty  yards 
apart." 

Directly  before  the  western  front  was  a  round  grass-plot,  de- 

[192] 


POTOMAC      RIVER. 

MOUNT  VERNON 


Lila  L.  Williams 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 


signed  with  a  sundial  in  the  center  and  carriageway  around  it. 
To  the  left,  looking  from  the  house,  we  find  the  kitchen,  butler's 
house,  smoke-house,  laundry  and  large  coach-house.  Also,  an 
enormous  barn  where  many  horses  were  kept,  while  to  the  right 
we  have  the  office,  gardener's  house,  carpenter-shop,  spinning- 
house,  and  later,  an  ice-house. 

The  vegetable  gardens  are  in  terraces.  During  those  early 
years,  doubtless,  they  held  many  fruit  trees,  but  only  a  few  pear 
and  apple  remain.  A  grape  arbor  runs  across  the  upper  terrace, 
and  the  whole  garden  is  protected  by  the  brick  wall,  topped  by  a 
white  picket  fence.  We  still  find  some  upshoots  of  the  original 
fig-trees.  Amariah  Frost,  who  wrote  a  description  of  the  vegetable 
garden  during  Washington's  life,  found  this  garden  "very  elegant." 
"With  abundance  of  fig-trees,  currant-bushes,  limes,  oranges,  large 
English  mulberries,  artichokes,  etc."  At  each  side  of  the  entrance 
masses  of  bush  box.  In  fact,  there  is  so  much  boxwood  at  Mount 
Vernon  that  we  are  led  to  believe  that  while  it  may  be  hard  to 
get  established  it  is  certainly  very  enduring  and  will  outlast  many 
other  evergreens. 

At  the  far  end  of  the  vegetable  garden  is  the  seedhouse.  In 
his  diary  George  Washington  shows  with  what  interest  he  studied 
the  English  seed  catalogues,  and  with  what  eagerness  he  exploited, 
with  more  or  less  success,  the  latest  improvement  in  horticulture. 
The  seedhouse  and  schoolhouse  were  of  the  same  design,  octagonal, 
with  brick  foundations,  and  slabs  of  wood  cut  to  represent  marble. 
The  brick  walls  surrounding  both  gardens  are  in  perfect  preserva- 
tion. These  enclosed  gardens  are  such  restful  places,  shut  in  from 
the  turmoil  and  confusion  of  the  outside  world. 

Let  us  cross  the  lawn  to  the  flower  garden  as  it  is.  Here,  in- 
deed, box  reigns  supreme.  Masses  and  masses  of  it,  in  straight  and 
square  beds,  circles,  hearts,  moons,  lozenges  and  double  circles; 
all  healthy,  strong  and,  best  of  all,  planted  by  these  dear  young 
owners  of  Mount  Vernon.  The  box  borders  are  so  fine  that  one 
wonders  how  they  survived  these  long  years.     We  of  the  garden 

[193] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

clubs  owe  a  vote  of  deepest  appreciation  to  the  Mount  Vernon 
Ladles'  Association,  which  has  preserved  not  only  the  home  and  its 
belongings,  but  these  magnificent  evergreens  in  their  now  perfect 
condition. 

Numerous  trees  and  shrubs  were  here  planted  by  distinguished 
visitors.  A  charming  custom  which  has  always  prevailed  in  foreign 
lands,  and  might  be  well  emulated.  The  Mount  Vernon  trees  are 
such  beautiful,  leafy  monuments  to  Thomas  Jefferson,  General 
LaFayette,  and  others.  Surely,  these  green  mementoes  of  living 
men  are  more  splendid  than  the  carved  stone  and  molded  bronze 
marking  their  last  resting  place. 

In  an  old  book,  it  is  claimed  that  the  designs  in  house  and 
garden  at  Mount  Vernon  were  all  Masonic,  and  while  this  is  not 
in  V^ashington's  own  diary,  it  does  have  some  foundation  in  the 
designs  themselves.  As  he  was  the  leading  Mason  of  the  time,  and 
a  very  enthusiastic  member  of  that  order,  it  seems  only  just  that 
we  should  at  least  see  what  grounds  there  are  for  this  belief.  The 
circle  before  the  front  door  represents  a  point  within  a  circle,  or, 
as  the  Masons  say,  "God  is  a  sphere  whose  center  is  everywhere, 
and  circumference  nowhere."  The  twenty-four  circle  posts  are  the 
twenty-four  hours  of  the  day.  These  posts  are  bound  together  by 
a  chain  which  stands  for  Time.  The  locust  post  in  the  center, 
with  the  dial  atop,  represents  the  sun,  the  source  of  time.  The 
mounds  at  the  entrance  symbolize  a  newly-made  grave — willows 
being  substituted  for  the  acacia,  the  Masonic  emblem  of  sorrow. 
I  will  not  touch  on  the  Masonic  emblems  in  the  house,  as  they  are 
too  numerous.  But  in  the  garden  we  find  the  picket  fence,  with 
twenty-six  in  each  section,  which  stands  for  the  twenty-six  weeks' 
progress  of  the  sun  to  the  north,  and  then  twenty-six  towards  the 
south,  or  evolution  and  growth.  The  urns  on  top  of  the  section 
stand  for  sacrifice  and  purification.  The  circular  flower-beds  are  the 
fourth  part  of  a  circle,  or  ninety  degrees.  The  square  beds  are  the 
Knight  Templar  Cross,  with  camouflage.  This  cross  stands  for 
universal  wisdom  and  consecration. 

[194] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 


In  the  house  border  we  find  a  tessellated  border  of  box,  each 
point  a  symbol  of  a  human  being,  who  is  the  termination  of  a 
line  of  ancestry,  and  the  beginning  of  a  line  of  posterity.  In 
these  box  designs  we  also  find  open-grave  designs,  symbol  of  the 
Resurrection  and  humility — two  bare  feet  designs,  symbol  of  an 
oblique  angle  (heel  of  right  to  hollow  of  left) — open  circle  stand- 
ing for  infinite  expansion — solid  sphere  or  worlds  prepared  for 
human  habitation — open  squares  representing  Blue  Lodge  apron — 
solid  squares  meaning  salt  which  cannot  burn  or  freeze — a  broken 
triangle  and  pendant,  standing  for  faithfulness  and  regret. 
Whether  these  were  deliberately  planned  by  Washington,  we  do 
not  know,  but  it  seems  likely  that  the  young  Mason  worked  out 
his  emblems,  just  as  in  the  Vatican  at  Rome,  since  time  beyond 
record,  the  Pope's  insignia  is  also  worked  out  in  box  in  his  private 
gardens.  Two  lilacs  stand  sentinel  at  either  side  of  the  gate,  to 
guard  its  privacy,  and  to  extend  a  sweet,  fragrant  welcome  to 
visitors. 

In  February,  1785,  Washington  writes  in  his  diary: 

"Removed  two  pretty  large  and  full  grown  lilacs  to  the 
north  garden,  one  on  each  side,  taking  up  as  much  dirt  with 
the  roots  as  could  be  obtained." 

The  conservatory  faces  the  entrance,  flanked  on  each  side  by 
the  quarters  of  the  household  servants.  This  conservatory  con- 
tained a  collection  of  rare  exotics,  some  of  which  were  presented 
as  tokens  of  esteem,  and  others  purchased  from  the  eminent 
botanist,  John  Bartram,  of  Philadelphia.  Among  these  plants 
Washington  had  a  small  grove  of  lemon-trees,  a  sago-palm  from 
East  India,  and  a  century-plant  from  Porto  Rico.  These  plants 
were  destroyed  when  the  conservatory  was  burnt  in  1835. 

The  rose  garden  is  to  the  right.  Here  indeed  is  a  lovely  sight — 
borders  of  cowslip  and  ivy,  and  such  lovely  roses  of  all  hues,  with 
lilacs  as  a  background.  What  a  delightful  combination — lilacs  and 
roses  and  fresh  perishable  cowslips,  with  gray  evergreen  ivy.   Long 

[195] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

sidewalks  bordered  with  ivy  and  masses  of  larkspur,  lilies  and 
Canterbury  bells.  To  the  left  the  same  Maltese  cross,  with  ivy 
and  dainty  cowslip  borders,  and  masses  of  all  our  dearly  loved 
Southern  flowers.  The  many-shaped  garden  plots  are  filled  with 
old-fashioned  plants.  The  floral  manuals  of  that  period  give  lists 
of  hollyhocks,  peonies,  iris,  tulips,  lilies,  nasturtium,  columbine, 
heliotrope,  cowslips,  pansies,  pride  of  London,  etc.  Here,  too,  we 
find  a  calycanthus  planted  by  Thomas  Jefferson — a  gentle  shrub, 
bringing  with  its  perfume  a  memory  of  those  olden  days  of  dignified 
friendships  and  courteous  hospitality.  A  long,  straight  bed  of  roses, 
edged  with  ivy,  helps  out  the  design.  Then  we  have  long  circular 
beds  of  roses,  iris,  and  peonies  with  violet  borders.  In  one  of  these 
beds  is  the  Mary  Washington  rose,  a  small  cluster  rose  nearly  white, 
planted  by  young  Washington,  and  named  for  his  mother — (could 
any  mother  want  a  sweeter  tribute  from  a  son?)  A  row  of  fig- 
bushes  stands  behind  the  box-hedge,  and  doubtless  the  children  after 
lessons  would  delight  in  their  abundance.  Turning  at  the  little 
schoolhouse,  we  will  come  back  to  the  conservatory.  A  long  grass- 
plot,  planted  in  shrubs,  has  next  the  wall  a  mass  of  lilies  of  the 
valley.  In  front  of  the  quarters  are  long  box  borders,  planted  in 
squares  and  circles,  open  and  solid,  the  outer  box  border  tessellated, 
and  an  inner  one  of  ivy.  Outside  of  these  are  box  designs  in  odd 
shapes,  and  other  long  borders  planted  in  tulips.  Two  box-trees 
front  the  conservatory,  near  which  we  see  also  the  shrub-magnolia 
planted  by  LaFayette — a  glorious  plant  in  spring — and  in  a  bed,  in 
all  its  glory  the  Nelly  Custis  rose — of  creamy  white — said  to  have 
been  planted  and  named  by  George  Washington. 

And  so  we  bid  an  unwilling  farewell  to  these  beautiful  gardens 
of  George  Washington — so  brilliant  in  the  sunshine  of  our  modern 
days,  a  design  not  yet  equalled,  of  an  historical  interest  impossible 
to  approach.  Here  young  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Washington  lived  their 
lives  of  great  contrasts — peace  and  war — isolated  from  the  hurry- 
ing world,  and  yet  crowded  with  earthly  interests.  Here  they 
lived,  and  here  they  died.     Lives  full  of  sweetness  of  youth  and 

[196] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

the  dignity  of  age.  Here  they  rest  amid  the  fine  old  trees  and 
whispering  evergreens  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac.  Mount 
Vernon  is  not  merely  the  home  of  George  Washington — it  is  also 
"the  cradle  of  our  national  liberty,"  and  the  resting  place  of  our 
national  glory.  No  fitter  ending  for  an  article  on  the  home  of 
George  Washington  can  be  found  than  the  sentiments  of  Rev. 
William  Jay,  of  England,  who  wrote: 

"There  dwelt  the  man,  the  flower  of  human  kind, 
Whose  visage,  mild,  bespoke  his  noble  mind ; 
There  dwelt  the  soldier,  who  his  sword  ne'er  drew 
But  in  a  righteous  cause  of  freedom  true ; 
There  dwelt  the  hero,  who  ne'er  fought  for  fame. 
Yet  gained  more  glory  than  a  Caesar's  name ; 
There  dwelt  the  statesman,  who,  devoid  of  art, 
Gave  soundest  counsel  from  an  upright  heart. 
But  oh !  Columbia,  by  thy  sons  caressed, 
There  dwelt  the  Father  of  the  realms  he  blessed. 
Who  no  wish  felt  to  make  his  mighty  praise. 
Like  other  things,  the  means  himself  to  raise. 
But  there — retiring — breathed  in  pure  renown, 
And  felt  a  grandeur  that  disdained  a  crown." 

LiLA  L.  Williams. 


[197] 


GUNSTON    HALL 

UNSTON-HALL  -  ON  -  THE  -  POTOMAC,  five 
miles  below  Mount  Vernon  and  eighteen  miles 
below  Washington,  the  home  of  George  Mason,  of 
Revolutionary  days,  was  built  by  him  in  the  years 
1755  to  1758. 

l^he  south  front  of  the  mansion  faces  the 
Potomac.  From  a  little  portico  on  this  front  one  looks  toward  the 
river,  between  two  rows  of  English  box  (Buxus  Suffruticosa),  twice 
the  height  of  a  tall  man,  and  two  hundred  and  twenty  feet  long. 
This  avenue  leads  directly  to  a  terrace  overlooking  wide  stretches 
of  meadows,  interspersed  and  bordered  with  forest  trees  and  com- 
manding a  view  across  the  broad  Potomac  to  the  hills  of  Mary- 
land beyond. 

Doubtless  it  was  Colonel  Mason's  intention,  when  he  planted 
this  box  hedge  (the  slips  of  which  were  probably  brought  from 
England),  to  keep  it  trimmed  in  the  low,  formal  style  then  cus- 
tomary, with  a  spacious  walk  between  its  rows.  Through  many  years 
of  neglect,  the  hedge  was  not  trimmed,  and,  with  soil  apparently 
ideal  for  its  growth,  it  has  reached  its  present  great  height  and 
beautiful  form.  A  leading  authority  in  this  country  estimates  the 
box  at  Gunston  Hall  to  be  about  forty  years  older  than  the  box  at 
Mount  Vernon.  Possibly,  slips  from  the  Gunston  Hall  box  were 
sent  to  Mount  Vernon  to  start  the  lovely  planting  of  box  there,  for 
exchanges  were  frequently  made,  as  we  learn  from  Washington's 
diary,  in  which  he  acknowledges  additions  to  his  flowers  and  fruits 
from  his  friend,  George  Mason,  at  Gunston  Hall.  In  1763,  Wash- 
ington writes  of  "grafting  cherries  and  plums  from  Colonel 
Mason's."  Again  in  1785,  Mason,  after  spending  the  night  at 
Mount  Vernon,  was  sent  by  Washington  back  to  Gunston  Hall  in 
his  coach,  "by  return  of  which,"  adds  Washington,  "he  sent  me 

[198] 


A  Garden  View  at  Gunston  Hall 


Entrance  Gates  at  Gunston  Hall 


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The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

slips  of  the  Persian  Jessamine  and  Guelder  Rose."  A  month 
later,  Colonel  Mason  wrote  from  Gunston  Hall  to  General  Wash- 
ington, sending  him  a  present  of  some  cider.  He  had,  he  says, 
broached  four  or  five  hogsheads,  and  filled  the  bottles  with  the 
best,  all  being  made  of  Maryland  Redstreaks.  "The  cider  this 
year  is  not  so  clear  and  fine,"  he  tells  his  friend,  and  he  wonders 
if  grinding  his  apples  late  in  the  fall  is  the  cause,  and  adds,  "As 
the  cider  in  bottles  will  not  ripen  for  use  until  late  in  May,  I  have 
also  filled  a  barrel  out  of  the  same,  which  I  beg  your  acceptance 
of."  He  recommended  that  a  little  ginger  should  be  put  in,  as  it 
improves  cider.  At  another  time  he  sent  Washington  some  water- 
melon seed,  which  he  had  promised  him. 

In  the  flower  garden  at  Gunston  are  masses  of  heliotrope,  phlox, 
delphinium,  lemon  verbena,  rose  geranium,  ageratum,  foxglove  and 
many  roses.  In  the  fall  the  hardy  chrysanthemums  produce  a  riot 
of  color. 

In  the  center  of  the  garden  plays  a  bird  fountain,  made  from 
the  capitol  and  base  of  a  discarded  column  from  the  United  States 
Treasury  building  at  Washington.  This  was  found  in  a  vacant 
plot  in  Washington,  where  it  had  lain  for  years.  On  its  base  it 
bears  the  date  1840.  It  is  made  of  sandstone  from  the  long  since 
abandoned  quarries  of  Aquia  Creek,  from  which  also  were  made 
the  quoins  of  the  Gunston  house. 

An  arched  brick  step  leads  to  the  Falls  Walk,  skirting  the  crest 
of  the  hill,  from  whence  a  sudden  declivity  leads  to  the  lower  field, 
which,  in  Mason's  day,  was  a  deer-park,  studded  with  trees.  The 
Falls  Walk  leads  on  to  the  dock,  whence  a  recently  constructed 
canal  connects  with  the  Potomac. 

From  the  east  end  of  the  garden  a  lilac-bordered  path  leads 
toward  the  lawn,  parallel  to  the  spacious  double  walk,  bordered 
by  flowering  cherry  trees,  under  whose  shade,  in  center  beds,  the 
spring  bulbs  bloom. 

The  bowling  green,  to  the  east  of  the  box-walk,  almost  square 
in  form,  is  enclosed  by  pleached  fruit  trees,  and  flowering  shrubs; 

[J99] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

while  the  vegetable  garden,  of  similar  form,  lying  to  the  west  of 
the  box-walk,  is  surrounded  with  a  thick  hedge  of  climbing  roses. 
A  break  in  the  box-hedge  bordering  the  center  walk  affords  an  in- 
teresting vista,  extending  from  the  cherry  trees  on  the  east  to  an  ivy- 
covered  sun-dial  at  the  far  side  of  the  vegetable  garden  on  the  west. 

From  the  crest  of  the  high  hill,  bordered  by  a  wide  walk,  an 
ivy  and  wistaria-covered  tea-house  and  pergola  overlook  the  broad 
water  of  the  Potomac  winding  its  way  to  the  sea.  One  can  easily 
imagine  Washington's  eight-oared  barge  sweeping  up  to  the  dock, 
landing  the  friend  and  neighbor  coming  in  favorite  fashion  to  pay 
a  visit  to  Colonel  Mason. 

We  learn  from  an  unfinished  manuscript  that  originally  the 
entrance  road,  which  curves  through  a  native  forest,  then  passes 
through  open  fields,  "was  girded  by  a  double  row  of  cherry  trees, 
the  common  blackheart,  raised  from  seed."  (Page  98,  Rowland's 
Mason),  but  they  have  long  since  disappeared.  An  avenue  of 
magnolia  grandiflora  has  now  been  planted,  which  will  in  time  take 
the  place  of  the  stately,  short-lived  Lombardy  poplars,  placed  there 
for  immediate  effect. 

George  Mason  (1725-1792)  was  the  author  of  the  Virginia 
Bill  of  Rights  and  of  the  Constiuition  of  Virginia.  "The  former, 
the  most  remarkable  paper  of  its  epoch,  was  the  foundation  of  the 
great  American  assertion  of  right.  Jefferson  went  to  it  for  the 
phrases  and  expressions  of  the  Declaration,  and  it  remains  the 
original  chart  by  which  free  governments  must  steer  their  course.  .  .  . 
The  equality  of  men  politically;  the  enjoyment  of  life,  liberty  and 
the  pursuit  of  happiness;  the  responsibility  of  magistrates;  the  right 
of  the  people  to  abolish  oppressive  government;  suffrage  to  all  men 
having  a  permanent  interest  in  the  community;  the  freedom  of  the 
press;  the  subjection  of  the  military  to  the  civil  government;  the 
free  exercise  of  religion;  and  an  adherence  to  justice,  moderation 
and  virtue;  these  were  to  be  the  burning  and  shining  lights  to  guide 
the  new  generation  in  their  march  to  the  Canaan  of  the  future." 
{Virginia,  by  John  Esten  Cooke,  p.  411.) 

[200] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

"From  a  porch  which  preserves  the  grace  and  beauty  of 
Georgian  architecture,  one  enters  a  wide  hall  extending  through  the 
house,  as  was  usual  in  Virginia  houses  of  its  class.  The  first  room 
on  the  right  is  finished  with  white  woodwork  delicately  carved  in 
Chinese-Chippendale  fashion.  The  second  and  communicating 
room  has  still  more  elaborately  carved  woodwork,  worked  out  with 
pilasters,  and  with  broken  pediments  above  the  doors,  the  mantel 
place  and  the  closet  alcoves.  Here,  the  mellow  color  of  the  pine 
walls,  once  covered  with  silken  hangings,  gives  unusual  beauty  and 
dignity  to  the  apartment. 

"The  first  room  to  the  left  of  the  central  hall  was  George 
Mason's  study,  where,  often  confined  by  his  inveterate  enemy,  gout, 
he  thought  out  and  wrote  out  those  documents  which  rank  him 
among  the  founders  of  the  government.  Here  Mr.  Hertle  has  had 
a  large  photographic  copy  of  the  Bill  of  Rights  placed  as  an  over- 
mantel, thus  linking  up  the  place  and  the  man.  The  dining-room 
looks  out  upon  the  gardens,  the  river  and  the  distant  hills.  A  stair- 
way protected  by  a  mahogany-trimmed  baluster,  delightful  in 
design  and  delicately  carved,  leads  to  the  chambers.  The  charac- 
teristic ornament  of  Gunston  Hall,  found  on  gateways  without, 
over  the  stairway  and  on  pediments  within,  is  the  pineapple, 
symbol  of  hospitality,  a  quality  now  as  ever  the  outstanding  feature 
of  the  place. 

"If  Gunston  walls  had  tongues  as  well  as  ears,  what  conversa- 
tions around  open  fires  they  might  report;  Washington  and  Mason 
discussing  the  Fairfax  Resolves,  that  threw  down  the  gauntlet  of 
independence;  Patrick  Henry  getting  from  the  cool  and  philosoph- 
ical Mason  the  fuel  for  the  fires  in  his  eloquence;  Richard  Henry 
and  Arthur  Lee  talking  of  the  French  Alliance;  Rochambeau  and 
LaFayette  journeying  north  after  the  victory  at  Yorktown;  Jeffer- 
son and  Madison,  coming  straight  from  Mount  Vernon  to  get 
Mason's  views  as  to  the  location  of  the  nation's  Capital.  These 
early  exchanges  of  opinion  have  been  paralleled  during  the  World 
War  by  the  long  discussions  between  Arthur  J.  Balfour  and  Secre- 

[201] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

tary  Lansing,  which  took  place  under  Gunston  trees."      (Charles 
Moore,  Gunston  Hall  Sketchy  P-  3-) 

From  George  Mason  the  Gunston  estate  passed  to  his  eldest 
son,  George,  of  Lexington;  thence  to  the  third  George  Mason. 
All  three,  with  their  families,  lie  in  the  quiet,  tree-shaded  grave- 
yard at  Gunston.  This  sacred  spot,  until  recently  sadly  neglected, 
is  now  enclosed  within  an  appropriate  brick  wall.  Here,  beneath  a 
chaste  marble  sarcophagus,  imported  by  George  Mason  from  Eng- 
land, lies  his  beautiful  wife,  Ann  Eilbeck  Mason.  On  this  stone  is 
inscribed  the  following  verse: 

"Once  she  was  all  that  sweetens  life, 
The  tender  mother,  daughter,  friend  and  wife, 
Once  she  was  all  that  makes  mankind  adore, 
Now  view  this  marble  and  be  vain  no  more." 

The  widow  of  George  Mason  III  sold  the  estate  in  1867,  and 
thus  the  ownership  passed  from  the  Mason  family.  In  19 12,  Gun- 
ston Hall  was  purchased  by  Mr.  Louis  Hertle.  The  Hall  was  then 
seriously  impared  by  neglect.  Various  additions  had  been  made 
to  the  original  building,  sadly  altering  its  character  and  appearance. 
The  once  well-tended  gardens  had  almost  disappeared,  only  their 
outlines  remaining.  The  present  owner,  with  the  advice  of  a  com- 
petent architect,  has  made  a  thorough  and  careful  restoration  of 
both  house  and  grounds. 

Eleanor  Hertle. 


[202] 


LEADING  SOUTH  TO  fLRR\ 
OVER  POTOMAC  ATr\ouTH 
CF   POH)CK  CREEIC. 


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THIS  CIRCLE  CAN  BE 
EASILY  TRACED  AND 
BEST  PRE3ERVEB-PA 
OF  YAI^D  "^^AU. 


FRONT  GATE 


PLAN  OF  BELVOIR^AND  FRONT  YARD 


The  Fairfax  homestead  on  the  Potomac,  now  the  site  of  Camp  Humphreys.  '  The 
original  house  was  partly  burned  in  1786.  It  was  restored  but  shelled  by  the  British  in 
1812.  Many  shrubs  and  spring  bulbs  still  bloom  here  in  memory  of  this  charming  garden 
of   Colonial    times. 


CHATHAM 

N  a  terraced  hill  overlooking  the  Rappahannock 
River,  with  the  spires  and  steeples  of  the  historic 
town  of  Fredericksburg  in  the  distance,  Chatham 
lies,  sleeping  in  the  sun,  dreaming  of  the  romances 
of  days  gone  by. 

The  charm  of  old  books,  the  mellowness  of  old 
violins,  the  softness  of  old  lace,  the  potency  of  old  wine — all  of 
these  sensations  are  recalled  when  coming  suddenly  upon  its  green- 
shuttered  windows  and  white  walls,  embowered  in  masses  of  box- 
wood and  evergreen  plants — all  steeped  in  a  strange  allure. 

From  below,  the  old  town  has  its  memories,  too;  the  boyhood 
pranks  of  no  less  a  personage  than  George  Washington;  and  long 
before  that,  the  struggles  and  privations  of  the  pioneer  settlers. 
Then  came  the  days  of  the  coach-and-four,  of  clanking  of  swords, 
of  powdered  wigs  and  stiff  broaches,  of  LaFayette's  visits  and  of 
royal  entertainments  given  in  his  honor.  Then  came  the  days  that 
left  their  scars  upon  the  gray  old  town  during  the  War  Between 
the  States,  when  Lee's  army  defended  it  against  overwhelming  odds. 
Through  the  quaint  old  streets,  each  house  has  its  own  story. 
There  is  the  home  of  Mary  Washington  with  its  box-edged  garden 
path  which  led  to  the  home  of  Betty  Washington,  the  wife  of 
Colonel  Fielding  Lewis. 

On  a  magnificent  estate  of  more  than  fifty  thousand  acres, 
Chatham  was  built  in  the  year  1728  by  William  Fitzhugh,  that 
patriotic  and  able  statesman,  known  as  "Fitzhugh  of  Chatham." 
It  was  named,  supposedly,  after  his  friend,  Sir  William  Pitt,  Earl 
of  Chatham,  and  there  is  a  family  tradition  that  the  plans  were 
brought  from  England  by  Pitt.  The  simplicity  of  the  long  low 
mansion  with  its  ample  wings  has  stood  the  test  of  time  and  today 

[203] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

as  It  stands  in  the  mellowness  of  its  two  hundred  years,  it  breathes 
the  spirit  of  hospitality  and  is  in  the  broadest  sense  a  home. 

There  was  once  a  private  race  course,  whose  owner  was  the 
possessor  of  many  famous  trotters,  a  judge  of  fine  horses,  and  a 
country  gentleman  of  the  old  school  noted  for  his  lavish  entertaining. 

The  site  of  the  old  garden,  which  was  terraced  to  the  river,  is 
supposed  to  have  been  the  spot  where  the  courtship  of  General  Lee 
culminated,  for  under  the  shade  of  an  old  elm  tree  overlooking  the 
Rappahannock  Mary  Custis  promised  to  be  his  wife.  There  is  an 
old  story  that  Lee  refused  to  allow  his  troops  to  fire  on  Chatham 
while  it  was  occupied  by  Union  troops,  so  through  his  love  for  the 
place  of  so  many  happy  memories,  its  life  was  saved. 

Fredericksburg,  lying  on  the  road  between  Washington  and 
Richmond,  was  a  strategic  point,  and  when  the  Federal  troops  oc- 
cupied the  Stafford  hills,  Chatham  was  used  as  General  Burnside's 
headquarters.  In  those  lovely  gardens  sloping  down  to  the  river, 
havoc  was  wrought  by  the  blue-coated  soldiers.  From  that 
vantage  point  could  be  seen  the  devastation  of  the  picturesque  old 
town.  Clouds  of  smoke,  the  bursting  of  shells  and  the  lurid  glare 
of  fire  made  a  panorama  of  the  horror  and  desolation  of  war. 

Lincoln  stayed  at  Chatham  when  he  reviewed  the  troops,  and 
many  counsels  of  war  were  held  in  those  panelled  rooms.  From 
early  colonial  days  Chatham  played  an  important  part  in  both  the 
social  and  political  life  of  the  country,  and  its  spacious  halls  have 
been  the  scene  of  many  important  gatherings,  both  grave  and  gay. 
Many  thrilling  secrets  those  old  walls  could  tell,  if  they  only  would ! 
From  the  time  of  Madison's  and  Monroe's  visits,  nearly  all  of  our 
Presidents  have  been  entertained  there,  and  have  wandered  through 
the  gardens,  with  the  river  flowing  beyond. 

Originally  these  gardens  were  on  the  terraces,  leading  down 
to  a  river  landing  where  boats  brought  each  day  the  necessities  as 
well  as  the  luxuries  of  life.  At  one  time  a  rose-garden,  with  more 
than  two  thousand  bushes,  bloomed  here  in  such  profusion  that  it 
was  the  pride  of  the  entire  countryside. 

[204] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

Now  the  formal  entrance  is  on  the  river,  and  looking 
through  the  spacious  hall,  an  open  door  gives  a  glimpse  of  such 
beauty  that  you  must  hasten  through  to  see  the  fulfilbnent  of  the 
promise.  A  flagged  terrace  with  two  sentinel  box  clumps,  just 
where  the  steps  go  down,  is  shaded  by  the  spreading  branches  of 
an  ancient  tree.  Sweet  scents  of  flowers,  the  drowsy  humming  of 
bees,  and  the  swift  dart  of  a  bluebird  from  the  wistaria  vine, 
truly,  one  could  dream  dreams  and  see  visions  in  such  a  spot. 
No  wonder  that  the  famous  ghost  of  Chatham  walks  here  some- 
times at  night,  when  all  the  world  is  sleeping. 

Beyond  the  terrace,  the  trim  box-bordered  walks  reveal  a  start- 
ling mass  of  bloom,  where  delphinium,  lemon  day  lilies,  and  holly- 
hocks vie  with  others  in  a  riot  of  color,  their  brightness  enhanced 
by  the  background  of  dark  evergreen.  Here  and  there  a  bit  of 
white  wall  or  a  little  white  gate  shows  through,  leading  off  to 
mysterious  places — perhaps  to  the  dairy,  perhaps  to  the  smoke- 
house, perhaps  to  the  servants'  quarters.  Quaint  rose  trees  line 
the  paths,  many  of  white  iris,  daffodils,  violets,  and  all  of  the  early 
flowers  bring  each  year  their  promise  of  eternal  spring. 

Though  with  the  passing  of  the  years,  Chatham  has  stood  a 
silent  witness  to  the  history  of  our  country,  it  still  stands  so  serenely 
that  its  life  seems  to  have  just  begun.  Through  the  loving  care 
of  its  present  owners,  its  youth  is  renewed,  and  today  one  sees  the 
brightness  of  its  tomorrow  in  the  glory  of  its  yesterdays. 

ASHTON    FiTZHUGH   WiLSON. 


[205] 


MARY  WASHINGTON'S   GARDEN 

HEN  Wakefield,  in  Westmoreland  County,  Vir- 
ginia, burned  April,  1735,  the  Washington  family 
moved  to  Pine  Grove,  more  commonly  known  as 
Ferry  Farm.  This  farm  was  on  the  Rappahan- 
nock River,  opposite  the  town  of  Fredericksburg. 
This  home  was  the  same  plan  and  size  as  that  at 
Wakefield.  Eight  happy  years  passed,  then  in  April,  1743,  Augus- 
tine Washington  died  after  a  brief  illness.  Mary  Washington  was 
a  widow  thirty-seven  years  old  with  five  children  under  twelve  years. 
Her  stepson,  Lawrence  Washington,  was  living  at  Mount  Vernon 
and  was  her  sole  advisor.  Her  son  George  was  only  eleven  years 
old  when  he  assumed  the  responsibilities  of  having  grace  and  family 
prayers  in  his  home.  George  said,  "All  that  I  am  I  owe  my 
mother." 

'Washington,  before  setting  out  to  take  charge  of  the  Colonial 
troops,  after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  persuaded  his  mother  to 
leave  Ferry  Farm  and  move  to  a  small  house  he  had  bought  a  few 
years  before  in  Fredericksburg.  Betty  Lewis,  her  only  daughter, 
wanted  her  to  live  at  Kenmore,  but  her  mother  had  been  accustomed 
to  her  own  home,  her  own  servants,  and  her  own  manner  of  life. 
The  habit  of  command  was  strong  within  her.  Her  simple  estab- 
lishment had  unfitted  her  to  occupy  a  visitor's  place  in  the  fine 
home  at  Kenmore. 

"My  wants  in  this  life  are  few,"  she  replied  to  her  daughter's 
invitation.  "I  feel  perfectly  competent  to  take  care  of  myself." 
Her  home  still  stands  in  Fredericksburg.  In  1775,  it  was  a 
long,  low  cottage,  with  a  hall  and  two  rooms  on  the  first  floor  and 
a  half  story  above.  The  house  was  part  brick  and  part  frame. 
A  detached  building  to  one  side  of  the  cottage  was  the  kitchen, 

[206] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

with  a  room  above  for  servants.  The  stables  were  on  the  corner; 
the  garden  and  orchard  in  front  and  on  the  side. 

The  land  was  a  part  of  the  Kenmore  estate.  Mary  Wash- 
ington loved  flowers  and  transplanted  many  from  her  former  home. 
Calycanthus  and  box,  said  to  have  been  planted  by  her,  still  grow 
in  this  garden.  The  same  sun-dial  marks  the  passing  days.  How 
we  would  listen  could  her  flowers  speak  and  tell  us  of  those  days! 
After  the  Revolution,  when  states  had  sprung  from  colonies, 
George  Washington,  on  a  visit  to  his  mother,  planted  thirteen 
horse  chestnut  trees  along  a  walk  leading  from  this  house  to  Ken- 
more.    One  of  these  trees  still  lives. 

The  change  from  Ferry  Farm  was  great,  for  one  who  loved 
wide  spaces  and  plantation  life.  Yet,  Mary  Washington  made  no 
complaint.  "George  thought  it  best,"  she  said.  Fredericksburg 
was  in  a  direct  line  from  eastern  to  southern  colonies.  Courier 
after  courier  would  appear  at  this  cottage  door  with  dispatches 
that  told  of  victory  or  defeat.  Those  trying  years,  when  her  son 
was  leading  the  Continental  forces,  Mary  was  praying,  and  with 
calmness  she  remonstrated  with  her  daughter  for  undue  excite- 
ments. "The  sister  of  the  Commanding  General  should  be  an  ex- 
ample of  faith  and  fortitude,"  she  said. 

Knitted  socks,  garments  and  provisions,  the  fruit  of  her  thrift 
and  economy,  were  sent  the  General  in  camp  for  distribution  among 
the  soldiers. 

November  ii,  1791,  Washington  arrived  in  Fredericksburg 
with  his  staff  of  French  and  American  officers,  en  route  from 
Yorktown  to  Philadelphia.  Leaving  his  retinue,  he  walked  un- 
attended to  the  unpretentious  cottage,  where  his  mother  awaited 
him.  She  was  alone.  She  bade  him  welcome,  with  a  warm  embrace 
and  the  endearing  name  "George."  She  spoke  much  of  old 
times  and  old  friends,  but  of  his  glory,  not  one  word.  Her  only 
appearance  in  public  as  the  hero's  mother  was  at  a  ball  given  in 
Fredericksburg.  In  the  autumn  of  1784  LaFayette,  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  paying  his  respect  to  Washington's  mother,' visited  Fred- 

[207] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

ericksburg,  and  staid  at  Kenmore.  Madam  Washington's  one 
recreation  was  walking  and  working  in  her  garden.  Her  love  for 
her  shrubs,  flowers,  and  herbs  was  strong.  LaFayette  came  by  a 
side  street  unannounced  and  entered  the  side  gate.  "Ah,  Marquis! 
You  have  come  to  see  an  old  woman.  But  come  in.  I  can  make 
you  welcome  without  changing  my  dress.  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 
I  have  often  heard  George  speak  of  you."  At  the  time  she  wore  a 
short  gown  of  linsey,  a  broad-brimmed  hat  over  her  plaited  under- 
cap,  and  was  raking  leaves.  She  dropped  the  rake  and  took  the 
hand  of  the  nobleman  in  both  of  hers.  He  bared  his  head  and 
bowed.  Later,  LaFayette  said,  "I  have  seen  the  only  Roman 
mother  living  at  this  day." 

April  14,  1789,  she  had  a  visit  from  her  first-born.  Washing- 
ton had  received  notice  of  his  election  to  the  Presidency  of  the 
United  States  and  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  leave  for  New  York. 
He  had  galloped  from  Mount  Vernon  to  spend  an  hour  or  more 
with  his  mother.  Time  pressed,  but  he  lingered,  realizing  the  fact 
that  this  might  prove  his  last  visit,  as  his  mother  was  abed  and 
stricken  with  a  fatal  disease.  His  premonition  was  fulfilled,  for 
Mary  Washington  died  August  25,  1789.  New  York  was  a  week's 
distance  by  special  post  rider,  and  the  President  did  not  receive 
the  news  until  September  ist 

Fancy  and  imagination  can  fill  in  these  few  facts  and  we  can 
picture  the  grand  old  mother  walking  in  this  garden,  both  early 
morning  and  at  twilight,  thinking  of  her  boy,  her  first-born,  leading 
forces  against  the  Mother  country.  How  her  heart  ached  for  him, 
as  he  met  trouble  and  dangers.  How  her  heart  throbbed  as  she 
thought  of  his  glory.  Prayer  after  prayer  was  offered  for  the 
Colony,  his  forces  and  her  son.  As  we  tread  the  same  brick  walk 
bordered  by  the  same  boxwood  we  feel  a  nearness  to  God,  as  this 
is  hallowed  ground — to  God  and  our  country. 

Anna  Marshall  Braxton. 


[208] 


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Matthew  Fontaine  Maurv's  Garden 


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Blandfield,  on  the  Rappahannock,  Built  by  William  Beverley  About  1760 


THE  MAURY  GARDENS 
FREDERICKSBURG 


IN 


M 

1 

ATTHEW  FONTAINE  MAURY!  The  name 
scintillates  in  the  realm  of  science  in  both  hemis- 
pheres. During  several  periods  of  his  life  this 
great  man  was  a  citizen  of  Fredericksburg.  Two 
of  the  houses  closely  associated  with  him  are  still 
here.  Perhaps  the  old  frame  dwelling  on  Char- 
lotte Street,  so  sadly  in  need  of  fresh  paint — with  the  blacksmith 
shop  and  the  woodyard  in  juxtaposition — would  never  attract  the 
attention  of  the  casual  passer-by.  But  if  he  were  keenly  alive  and 
discerning,  and  appreciative  of  the  historic  lore  of  the  old  town, 
a  certain  imperceptible  and  compelling  influence  would  detain  his 
lingering  footsteps.  He  would  pause  to  read  the  inscription  on  a 
bronze  tablet  which  surmounts  the  granite  block  on  the  pavement 
in  front  of  this  house: 

Home  of  Matthew  Fontaine  Maury 

1836-1842 

Pathfinder  of  the  Seas 

Projector  of  the  Atlantic  Cable 

Founder  of  the  National  Observatory 

Father  of  Meteorological  Science 

Commander  C.  S.  N. 


He  would  note  that  the  grounds  on  the  east  still  bear  traces 
of  former  loveliness.  Here  is  still  the  broad  brick  paving,  and 
the  riotous  tangle  of  the  honeysuckle,  with  undisputed  right  of  way, 
usurps  the  choicest  place,  in  what  were  once  the  formal  flower 
borders.    Oblongs,  ovals,  and  circles  have  lost  their  symmetry,  and 

[209] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

only  bricks  at  intervals  are  left  to  tell  their  tale.  But  birds  still 
carol  in  the  tall  tree  tops,  and  butterflies  flit,  and  bees  still  buzz  in 
the  sweet-scented  clovers  and  honeysuckle ! 

The  interest  of  the  stranger  is  awakened  and  unsatisfied.  He 
inquires  carefully  and  finds  it  was  in  the  seclusion  of  that  home  with 
the  high  brick  wall — a  shallow  wire  fence  has  now  replaced  the 
wall — that  Matthew  Maury  opened  the  eyes  of  the  world  of  mari- 
time science  and  took  his  first  step  on  the  rung  of  the  ladder  which 
carried  him  up  to  the  heights  of  honor  and  fame. 

It  was  here  that  he  wrote  that  striking  series  of  essays  on 
naval  reform,  published  incognito  in  the  Southern  Literary  Mes- 
senger. It  was  also  here  that  he  made  his  Survey  of  Southern 
Harbors. 

At  the  outbreak  of  hostilities  in  1861,  Lieutenant  Maury  was 
one  of  the  first  to  sacrifice  his  own  interests  and  ambitions  to  further 
the  welfare  of  his  own  beloved  State.  He  resigned  his  important 
position  at  the  Naval  Observatory  in  Washington  to  accept  the 
position  as  chief  of  The  River,  Harbor  and  Coast  Defences  of 
the  South,  with  headquarters  in  Richmond. 

In  April,  1861,  he  writes  from  Richmond  to  his  affectionate 
kinsman,  John  Minor,  of  Fredericksburg:  "Dear  John.  Bless 
your  heart  for  offering  us  shelter  in  these  times!  .  .  .  .  " 

The  substantial  brick  structure  which  housed  his  family  during 
the  unhappy  days  of  186 1-2,  and  also  himself,  whenever  circum- 
stances in  those  uncertain  times  made  it  possible,  stands  today,  in 
all  its  well-preserved  beauty  and  simplicity,  on  lower  Main  Street. 
It  Is  now  owned  and  occupied  by  Mrs.  L.  L.  Coghill  and  family. 
Its  every  feature — the  style  of  its  construction,  its  hand-carved 
wood  work,  its  interesting  brass  door  locks  and  knobs — all  are 
silent  and  accurate  witnesses  of  earlier  days. 

An  emerald  lawn,  which  shows  every  evidence  of  loving  care, 
ornaments  the  north  side  of  the  handsome  old  house.  From  its 
velvet  surface  a  giant  black  walnut  tree  proudly  spreads  its  protect- 
ing branches.     What  repose  there  was  for  Maury  in  its  dappled 

[210] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

shade  !  But  fate  denied  him  the  bliss  of  that  old  armchair  invitingly 
placed  beneath  its  spreading  boughs  and  the  longed-for  companion- 
ship of  his  own  adored  family,  except  on  rare  occasions. 

When  the  Government  appealed  to  patriotic  Americans  for  cer- 
tain woods  to  be  used  in  the  construction  of  ships  during  the  World 
War,  this  walnut  tree  was  generously  offered  by  Mrs.  Coghill,  and 
her  offer  was  accepted.  Fortunately,  however,  when  the  inspector 
came  to  see  if  it  was  available,  he  was  so  struck  with  its  magnificence 
that  he  recommended  that  it  be  held  in  reserve  for  a  last  call.  The 
signing  of  the  Armistice  shortly  after  that  saved  the  old  tree  from 
being  commandeered. 

Beyond  the  walnut  tree  is  the  old  flower  garden,  radiant  still 
with  old-time  favorites.  In  the  fresh,  sweet  spring  of  the  year, 
snowballs,  lilacs,  peonies,  tulips,  violets  and  jonquils  vie  with  each 
other  in  perfection  of  bloom.  And  then  when  summer  comes, 
geraniums,  verbenas,  phlox,  mignonette.  Everywhere,  and  during 
all  the  blossoming  season,  nearly  all  seasons,  roses  scent  the  air  with 
their  sweet  fragrance. 

The  old  plank  fence  in  the  rear,  and  the  locust  trees,  half  dead 
with  age,  support  the  strong  and  vigorous  trumpet  flower.  The 
long  serpentine  brick-paved  path,  with  its  carpet  of  moss,  which 
leads  to  the  old  kitchen  of  other  days,  adds  a  mellow  note  to  the 
harmony  of  the  garden,  which,  in  the  summer  of  today,  is  a  joy 
to  all  who  behold  it. 

In  a  lecture  delivered  at  the  laying  of  the  cornerstone  for  the 
Maury  monument  in  Richmond,  Professor  A.  B.  Chandler  said: 
"He  belonged  to  that  very  small  circle  of  consummate  masters  in 
the  field  of  research  to  whom  every  advanced  nation  is  largely  in- 
debted for  its  present  expanded  commercial  life His  work 

was  not  local  but  universal;  not  transient,  but  permanent;  not  bene- 
fiting a  few,  but  all  the  earth.  ...  He  is,  in  truth,  the  father 
of  the  science  of  meteorology,  and  has  been  so  recognized  in  all 
the  world,  save  his  native  land.  .   .   .  Born  within  ten  miles  of 

[211] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

Fredericksburg,  dead  at  Lexington,  buried  in  Richmond,  his  life 
throughout  was  so  steady,  his  heart  was  so  pure,  that  the  only 
'crime' — God  save  the  mark — he  ever  committed  during  his  career 
was  his  allegiance  with  the  incomparable  Lee  in  the  just  cause  that 
was  lost." 

Dora  C.  Jett. 


[212] 


FALL   HILL 


ALL  HILL  was  built  about  1738  by  Colonel  Francis 
Thornton,  whose  family  was  a  very  ancient  one, 
tracing  direct  descent  from  William  Thornton, 
Lord  of  East  Newton,  Yorkshire,  13 13.  It  was 
built  as  a  summer  residence,  and  for  this  its  situa- 
tion upon  the  brow  of  a  high  hill,  three  miles  out- 
side of  Fredericksburg,  was  eminently  suitable.  This  property  on 
the  hill,  and  for  many  miles  along  the  valley  of  the  Rappahannock, 
was  inherited  by  Colonel  Thornton  from  his  father,  Francis  Thorn- 
ton I,  who  lived  in  the  Falls  house,  half  a  mile  from  the  river. 
Colonel  Francis  Thornton  II  married  Frances  Gregory,  in  about 
1736,  she  being  the  daughter  of  Mildred  Washington,  sister  of 
Augustine  Washington,  the  father  of  America's  first  president. 
When  Colonel  Thornton  died,  in  1749,  he  left  a  large  property  in 
different  parts  of  Virginia  to  each  of  his  two  younger  sons,  and 
to  his  eldest  son,  Francis  III,  he  bequeathed  the  Falls  plantation 
and  Fall  Hill.  He  dowered  his  daughters  handsomely,  especially 
Mildred,  upon  her  coming  of  age,  when  she  married  Charles  Wash- 
ington, youngest  brother  of  the  General. 

In  the  old  graveyard  at  The  Falls  eleven  generations  of  the 
Thornton  family  are  sleeping  through  eternity.  Among  the  graves 
are  those  of  Colonel  Thornton  and  the  infant  daughter  of  Mildred 
and  Charles  Washington.  After  the  death  of  Colonel  Thornton, 
his  family  lived  for  some  years  in  both  houses,  but  when  the  Falls 
dwelling  was  destroyed  by  fire  they  moved  to  Fall  Hill.  Curiously 
enough,  the  latter  house  was  not  then  finished,  though  the  white 
panelling  and  fine  mantel-pieces  testify  to  the  infinite  care  and  taste 
with  which  it  was  being  planned. 

Francis  Thornton  III  married  Ann  Thompson,  the  daughter  of 
Lady  Spotswood  by  her  second  marriage,  to  Parson  Thompson. 

[213] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

At  this  time  his  mother  moved  into  the  Falls  cottage,  a  commo- 
dious brick  house,  now  in  existence  near  the  site  of  the  original 
dwelling. 

Of  the  six  children  of  Francis  III  and  Anne  Thornton,  Francis 
IV  was  the  only  son.  His  mother  brought  to  Fall  Hill  with  her 
Katina,  an  Indian  woman,  who  had  attended  her  from  her  infancy, 
who  had  been  given  originally  to  Governor  Spotswood  by  an 
itinerant  tribe  of  Indians  when  he  was  on  one  of  his  many  exploring 
expeditions  to  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains.  Francis  IV  personally 
told  Colonel  James  Innes  Thornton  of  Alabama,  his  son,  that  he 
could  remember  Katina's  taking  him  and  his  five  sisters  into  the 
woods  and  covering  them  with  leaves  while  she  called,  with  strange 
and  beautiful  cries,  the  birds  of  the  forest,  which  would  come  and 
rest  around  them.  Her  grave  is  still  well  marked  among  six  old 
oaks  back  of  the  Fall  Hill  house.  After  this,  Francis  Thornton 
was  always  a  friend  of  the  Indians,  and  the  latter  frequently  called 
upon  him  at  Fall  Hill  when  they  were  passing  near  the  place. 

In  1837,  when  Francis  Thornton  IV  died,  his  family  scattered, 
and  for  some  years  the  place  was  tenanted  by  the  family  nurse, 
Mammy  Nancy.  In  1843,  his  granddaughter,  Bessie  Forbes,  in- 
herited it  in  part.  After  her  marriage  to  Dr.  John  R.  Taylor,  the 
latter,  by  purchase,  added  to  his  wife's  portion  many  acres  of  the 
original  plantation. 

In  1868,  General  Robert  E.  Lee  was  a  guest  at  Fall  Hill,  and 
Mrs.  Taylor,  who  then  owned  the  place,  called  his  attention  to  the 
shattered  trunk  of  a  tree,  the  top  of  which  had  been  shot  away 
by  a  Federal  cannon.  Though  rapidly  being  overgrown  with  ivy, 
Mrs.  Taylor  was  preserving  this  tree  trunk  as  an  object  of  historic 
interest.  Instead  of  showing  the  interest  she  expected.  General  Lee 
advised  her  not  to  preserve  it  at  all,  but  to  obliterate  as  far  as 
possible  every  trace  of  the  unfortunate  war. 

Mrs.  Taylor  died  in  1876,  and  upon  her  husband's  death  in 
1882  the  property  was  divided  by  lot  among  his  four  sons  and  one 
daughter,  Bessie  Thompson  Taylor.    The  house,  with  considerable 

[214] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

land,  went  to  the  youngest  son,  Richard  Taylor,  who  sold  it,  and 
for  the  first  time  the  estate  reverted  to  an  outsider,  Mr.  Smith,  who, 
in  turn,  sold  Fall  Hill  to  Colonel  Hellier. 

In  1909,  upon  the  death  of  Colonel  Hellier,  Fall  Hill  came  into 
the  possession  of  the  original  family  again,  through  Captain  Mur- 
ray Taylor,  eldest  son  of  Dr.  Taylor.  At  the  present  time,  his 
daughter,  Mrs.  Bessie  Forbes  Robinson,  is  chatelaine  of  the  old 
place,  which  descends  by  entail  to  her  daughter,  Butler  Brayne 
Thornton  Robinson, 

Though  the  garden,  which  suffered  cruelly  during  the  war,  has 
been  replaced  to  a  great  extent  by  modern  shrubs  and  vines,  the 
steep  terraces  and  the  thousands  of  naturalized  jonquils,  which 
make  them  glitter  like  gold  in  the  spring,  give  a  very  good  idea 
of  what  the  spot  once  was.  The  driveway  around  the  grass  circle 
in  front  of  the  house  is  still  lavishly  bordered  with  jonquils,  and 
ends  at  an  old-fashioned  stone  carriage  block  quarried  at  Fall  Hill. 

Mrs.  Charles  Selden,  daughter  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  J.  R.  Taylor, 
who  once  lived  there,  says  of  the  old  garden:  "A  broad  gravel 
walk  once  led  from  the  carriage  block  to  the  house,  and  from 
there  followed  the  course  of  the  lawn  overlooking  the  Rappa- 
hannock River.  The  terraces  which  fall  from  the  front  of  the 
house  are  bordered  with  jonquils  of  many  varieties,  and  thousands 
of  daffodils  grow  in  large  beds  under  many  of  the  trees  on  the  lawn. 

"On  the  first  terrace,  which  begins  at  the  brow  of  the  hill,  some 
of  the  trees  which  once  stood  there  are  still  left,  though  the  trellises 
and  arbors,  covered  with  roses  and  Virginia  creeper,  that  were  at 
one  time  scattered  over  the  lawn,  have  disappeared. 

"Extending  through  the  original  flower  garden  at  the  rear  of 
the  house  was  a  Avide  gravel  path,  bordered  with  masses  of  cow- 
slips and  hyacinths  which  bloomed  beneath  spiraea,  pyrus  japonica 
and  magnolia  conspicua.  Microphyllae  and  damask  roses  were 
also  in  these  borders,  and  beyond  them  were  large  beds  of  hundred- 
leaf  roses." 

[215]      • 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Surrounding  the  house  are  many  original  oaks,  said  by  experts 
to  be  among  the  finest  in  America.  And  in  the  woodland,  as  if  in 
consolation  for  the  garden  that  has  gone,  grow  as  many  different 
varieties  of  wild  flowers — especially  hardy  orchids — as  may  be 
found  anywhere  in  the  country. 

Anne  Thornton  Taylor  Bayliss. 


[216] 


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The   Garden   at   Sabine   Hall 


SABINE    HALL 

HERE  grow  ivo  strange  flowers  every  year — 
But  when  Spring  winds  blow  o'er  the  pleasant  places 
The  same  dear  things  lift  up  the  same  fair  faces." 

Just  such  a  garden  is  that  at  Sabine  Hall,  which 
is  situated  on  a  ridge  one  mile  back  from  the  broad 
waters  of  the  Rappahannock  River. 

The  house,  Sabine  Hall,  was  built  in  1730  for  Colonel  Landon 
Carter  by  his  father,  Robert  Carter,  of  Corotoman,  who  was 
called  by  his  compatriots  "King"  Carter  by  reason  of  his  very 
extensive  possessions  in  the  Colony  of  Virginia. 

Colonel  Carter,  like  many  another  squire  of  his  time,  found 
great  delight  in  Horace,  and  legend  has  it  that  he  named  his  estate 
for  Horace's  Sabine  farm  because  of  his  interest  in  the  Roman  poet. 

The  house,  with  its  high  ceilings,  spacious  rooms  and  wide 
halls,  remains  today  one  of  the  finest  among  the  Colonial  dwellings 
of  the  Old  Dominion.  The  walls  of  the  drawing-rooms  and  great 
halls  are  hung  with  family  portraits,  among  them  being  pictures  of 
Landon  Carter  and  "the  three  great  ladies  who  successively  bore 
his  name."  One  of  the  family's  most  valued  possessions  is  a  fine 
portrait  of  King  Carter.  The  estate,  consisting  of  some  four 
thousand  acres,  is  on  the  Rappahannock,  in  Richmond  County,  not 
far  from  Menokin,  the  home  of  Francis  Lightfoot  Lee.  It  was  at 
Sabine  Hall  that  Colonel  Carter,  "retired  from  public  praise,"  car- 
ried on  his  famous  correspondence  with  General  Washington  and 
the  Lees,  much  of  which  has  been  preserved.  These  historical 
documents  show  the  great  influence  he  exerted  over  Colonial  and 
Revolutionary  affairs. 

On  one  front  of  the  Colonial  brick  house  are  lawns  many  acres 
in  extent  shaded  by  stately  old  trees.  On  the  other,  commanding 
a  beautiful  view  of  the  lowlands  and  river,  is  a  very  lovely  terraced 

[2.7] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

garden,  an  excellent  example  of  Colonial  gardens  at  their  best. 
Fortunate  in  never  having  passed  out  of  the  family,  this  garden  is 
beautifully  cared  for  and  still  in  perfect  preservation.  Practically 
unchanged  since  it  was  laid  off  about  1730  by  English  gardeners, 
presumably  brought  to  this  country  for  that  purpose,  it  bears  wit- 
ness to  the  skill  and  good  taste  of  former  days. 

The  garden  has  a  series  of  six  terraces.  Upon  the  upper  a 
broad,  level  walk  leads  from  the  porch  to  its  outer  edge;  on  each 
side  of  this  and  running  the  length  of  the  terrace,  are  grass  plots, 
their  green  unbroken  except  in  the  center  where  clumps  of  crepe 
myrtle  give  a  touch  of  color  by  their  wealth  of  pink  blossoms. 
At  the  edge  of  this  terrace  are  wide  borders  beside  which  run  gravel 
walks  several  feet  in  width.  These  borders  are  filled  with  a  variety 
of  rose  bushes  and  yellow  jasmine.  At  the  far  end  clumps  of 
hollyhock,  weigela  and  stately  white  yuccas  are  massed.  In  addi- 
tion to  these,  pink  and  blue  columbine.  Oriental  poppies,  peonies 
of  different  hues,  golden  coriopsis,  delphiniums,  sweet  william, 
bleeding  hearts,  chrysanthemums  and  other  flowers  give  a  con- 
tinuous succession  of  bloom  and  a  riot  of  color. 

To  the  right  this  terrace  slopes  to  a  portion  of  the  lawn  where 
the  sides  of  a  little  ravine  are  covered  with  thousands  of  narcissi, 
and  to  the  left  it  slopes  to  a  lower  level  on  which  are  the  old- 
fashioned  toolhouse,  dairy,  and  smokehouse  almost  completely 
enveloped  in  ivy,  wistaria  and  climbing  roses. 

One  walks  from  the  first  terrace  down  a  grassy  ramp  to  the 
second.  Here  is  the  real  flower  garden,  bounded  on  the  left  by  an 
unbroken  box-hedge,  about  eight  feet  tall,  which  extends  the  breadth 
of  the  terrace.  In  the  far  corners  are  clumps  of  lilac,  althea,  mock- 
orange,  and  smoke  tree.  Here,  too,  Japanese  quince  or  cydonia 
japonica,  calycanthus,  Persian  lilacs,  snowballs,  hardy  white 
hydrangeas,  hollyhocks,  bridal  wreath,  and  syringa  growing  on 
irregularly  shaped  turf  beds  form  a  background  for  the  smaller 
flowers. 

Still    more   to    the    right   is    a    magnificent    English   broadnut 

[218] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

(hickory)  tree  under  whose  protectnig  branches  merry  children 
have  for  many  generations  played  "flower  ladies."  A  corre- 
sponding pecan  tree  which  stood  on  the  left  was  blown  down  a 
few  years  ago. 

On  this  terrace  narrower  gravel  walks  branch  off  from  the  side. 
These  lead  one  who  traverses  them  through  a  maze  of  beautiful 
flowers  which  fill  the  quaintly  shaped  borders.  Roses  of  many 
varieties  and  colors — lavender,  whose  blossoms  are  cut  each  year 
and  placed  among  the  linen — wall  flower,  foxglove,  Canterbury 
bells,  gaillardias,  verbenas,  orange  and  yellow  calendulas,  chrysan- 
themums, peonies,  pink  and  white  phlox,  cowslips,  snapdragons, 
petunias,  flowering  almond,  Easter  lilies,  many  kinds  of  iris,  violets, 
lily  of  the  valley  in  profusion,  and  others  too  numerous  to  mention 
fill  the  borders  with  sheets  of  brilliant  bloom  from  earliest  spring 
until  latest  autumn. 

The  next  terrace  is  given  up  to  grapes,  figs,  strawberries,  rasp- 
berries, currants  and  other  small  fruits,  while  the  fourth  and  fifth 
are  planted  with  vegetables  and  the  sixth  with  fruit  trees. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  spot  more  suggestive  of 
romance  than  this  old  garden.  On  a  moonlight  night,  with  the 
river  a  thread  of  silver  in  the  distance,  one  can  almost  see  the 
belles  and  beaux  of  bygone  days  emerging  from  the  shadows. 

It  was  in  the  garden  of  Sabine  Hall  that  George  Washington 
and  Landon  Carter  walked  together  as  Washington  unfolded  his 
plans  for  the  campaign  at  Morristown.  When  the  latter  returned 
he  took  with  him  the  young  son  of  Sabine  Hall  to  enlist  in  the  Army 
of  the  Revolution.  It  well-nigh  broke  his  mother's  heart.  Then 
followed  a  letter  from  General  Washington  to  the  boy's  father  full 
of  tender  sympathy  for  the  mother,  "understanding  her  fears  and 
anxieties,"  saying  he  is  going  to  "place  the  boy  with  so  good  a 
man  as  General  Baylor,"  how  he  himself  is  sick  of  war  and  longs 
for  the  shades  of  private  life. 

Landon  Carter's  diary  tells  of  the  yearly  Christmas  house 
parties,  when  the  Lees  and  Washingtons,  the  Spotswoods  and  other 

[219] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

great  men  from  all  over  the  country  were  gathered  there.  He 
writes  of  the  pipes  of  wine,  barrels  of  oysters,  saddles  of  mutton 
and  other  supplies  laid  in  for  their  enjoyment.  It  is  interesting  to 
read  of  the  colors  the  different  brides  chose  for  the  walls  of  the 
house.     One  wants  the  walls  green  and  the  chariot  painted  yellow! 

I.andon  Carter  married  Maria  Byrd  of  Westover.  Three 
months  ago  in  looking  over  some  of  the  old  books,  a  leather  volume 
of  Thompson's  poems  was  found.  In  it  was  the  beautiful  Byrd 
coat-of-arms  and  on  the  flyleaf  was  written,  "Presented  by  Maria 
Byrd  of  Westover  to  Colonel  Landon  Carter  of  Sabine  Hall." 
The  book  of  poems  she  presented  to  her  lover  so  long  ago  rests 
today  on  the  library  table  at  Sabine  Hall,  a  bit  of  atmosphere 
linking  the  past  and  present  together. 

Sabine  Hall  has  come  down  for  eight  generations,  alternating 
witli  Robert  Carter  and  Landon  Carter  until  Robert  W.  Carter 
willed  it  to  his  grandson,  Robert  Carter  Wellford,  whose  mother 
was  Elizabeth  Landon  Carter, 

Robert  Carter  Wellford,  like  the  first  Landon  Carter,  went  to 
the  banks  of  James  River  for  his  bride,  and  most  of  his  wooing 
was  done  at  Westover,  then  the  home  of  Mrs.  A.  H.  Drewry. 
Robert  Carter  Wellford  and  Lizzie  Harrison,  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Drewry,  were  married  in  the  old  drawing-room  at  Westover  under 
an  arch  of  roses,  where  had  stood  nearly  two  hundred  years  before 
Landon  Carter  of  Sabine  Hall  and  Maria  Byrd  of  Westover. 

Amid  all  the  joys  and  sorrows  that  have  come  with  the  years 
the  children  and  grandchildren  of  Robert  Carter  Wellford  and 
Lizzie  Harrison  still  gather  in  the  old  home.  Their  feet  patter 
down  the  halls  which  echo  with  laughter  and  merriment,  and  in 
the  old  garden,  under  the  old  English  broadnut  tree,  little  ones  still 
play  flower  ladies. 

Elizabeth  Landon  Wellford  Jones. 


[220] 


MOUNT   AIRY 

HE  Northern  Neck  of  Virginia  Is  that  long,  narrow 
strip  of  land,  lying  between  the  Rappahannock  and 
Potomac  Rivers,  Here  were  the  homes  of  Wash- 
ington, Madison,  Monroe,  and  Lee — and  many 
other  noble  and  stalwart  souls,  whose  lives  helped 
to  make  the  sum  of  human  achievement  greater  for 
having  lived. 

This  section  is  far  from  the  centers  of  trade  and  commerce,  and 
there  are  still  no  railroads  or  towns;  so  there  one  can  find  old- 
time  traditions  and  conditions  as  perhaps  in  no  other  part  of  Vir- 
ginia.   Here  one  finds  many  fine  old  homes  and  churches  left  intact. 

Amid  the  rural  beauties,  winding  rivers,  honeysuckled  roads, 
great  wheat  and  corn  fields  In  Richmond  County  lies  "Mount  Airy," 
the  ancestral  home  of  the  Tayloes.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  of  Tide- 
water estates,  and  Is  like  an  old  barony,  with  its  vast  lands  and 
great  mansion. 

As  you  drive  up  the  high,  winding  way  to  the  top  of  the 
terrace,  through  grassy  lawn  and  giant  trees — alternate  shade  and 
sunlight — and  come  to  the  house,  you  feel  that  you  must  be  in 
England,  for  it  is  very  stately  and  beautiful,  so  softened  and 
mellowed  by  time,  that  you  are  sure  you  cannot  be  In  twentieth 
century  America. 

It  was  In  the  reign  of  Charles  II  that  the  first  Tayloe  came  to 
the  new  land  to  live  and  brought  with  him  the  culture  and  traditions 
of  an  English  gentleman,  and  transferred  them  to  the  virgin  soil. 

His  grandson.  Colonel  John  Tayloe,  built  Mount  Airy  in 
1747,  and  the  Tayloes  still  own  the  place,  and  live  there,  which 
makes  it  unusual  among  Virginia  colonial  homes. 

The  place  consists  of  three  houses,  grouped  about  a  central  axis, 
and  connected  by  curved  covered  ways,  the  whole  enclosing  a  raised 

[221] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

forecourt  where  the  grass  is  very  green  and  four  symmetrical 
holly  trees  give  color  and  dignity.  There  is  ivy  clustered  against 
the  wall  and  foliage  massed  behind  the  house. 

Below  the  court  is  a  circle  of  green,  with  an  ancient  sundial, 
and  below  and  beyond,  the  many  rolling  acres  in  lawn  and  trees 
where,  in  olden  times,  many  deer  were  kept.  The  worn  stone-steps 
leading  to  the  court  have  massive  stone  urns  on  pedestals  at  either 
side.  The  walk  leads  through  the  court  to  more  stone-steps  that 
lead  to  the  portico  and  hall.  These  steps  are  guarded  by  bronze 
dogs.  The  architecture  of  Mount  Airy  is  not  colonial  at  all,  but 
rather  English,  and  one  unique  feature  is  that  it  is  built  entirely  of 
stone,  native  brown  and  grey  sandstone.  Time  has  weathered  and 
softened  it,  and  it  is  very  lovely,  surrounded  by  the  beauties  of 
Virginia  landscape. 

At  the  back  are  five  grassy  terraces,  the  central  one  being  a 
perfect  square  of  green.  This  was  once  used  as  a  bowling  green, 
and  one  easily  imagines  the  gay  gallants  of  long  ago,  bowling 
upon  it,  with  might  and  main,  and  later  going  into  the  dining-room 
to  drink  a  mint-julep,  from  the  "Old  Bowl  of  Mount  Airy,"  which 
is  famous  in  poem  and  story. 

These  terraces  are  most  unusual  and  end  in  a  vista  of  flowers 
and  shrubbery,  at  the  brink  of  the  great  hill,  where  one  gets  a 
view  of  surpassing  grandeur.  Before  you  lie  extended  many  miles 
of  farm  and  woodland — most  of  it  still  belonging  to  the  estate. 
There  the  Rappahannock  River,  three  miles  away,  winds  like  a 
blue  ribbon,  in  the  distance;  and,  on  the  farther  side  of  the  river, 
the  houses  of  the  little  colonial  town  of  Tappahannock,  in  Essex 
County,  spread  out  upon  its  shores. 

There  was  once  a  large,  formal  garden  at  Mount  Airy. 
There  were  parterres  and  hedges  and,  several  feet  below  the  green, 
at  the  right,  was  the  kitchen  garden.  But,  in  the  sad  days  after 
the  war,  things  had  to  be  changed,  and  the  kitchen  garden  was 
ploughed  for  wheat,  the  parterres  lapsed  into  a  lawn,  in  which 
paths  and  ornaments  are  still  seen.     It  has  never  been  restored  to 

[222] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

its  original  plan,  but  today  is  in  smooth  grass,  trees,  flowers,  and 
shrubbery,  and  is  much  more  charming  and  picturesque  than  in  the 
days  of  its  ancient,  formal  stiffness. 

I  will  never  forget  a  very  large  and  symmetrical  crepe  myrtle 
tree,  standing  in  the  center  of  a  square  of  this  old  garden  and 
every  particle  covered  with  its  pink,  crepy  bloom — the  sunset  red 
behind  the  trees  and  across  the  river,  and  the  air  musical  with  the 
songs  of  many  birds,  for  there  are  thousands  of  birds  at  Mount 
Airy. 

It  is  an  unforgettable  experience  to  have  tea  on  the  second 
terrace,  the  sun  low  behind  the  tulip  poplar  trees,  and  the  birds 
coming  quite  close  to  pick  up  crumbs — mockings,  red  birds, 
thrashers,  and  robins,  while  two  wood-thrushes  sang  their  musical 
song  from  the  woods.  The  old  tulip  poplar  trees  are  magnificent 
and  are  believed  to  antedate  the  house.  The  view  from  the  loggia 
of  the  five  terraces,  the  flowers,  and  the  vista,  is  very  lovely. 
Off  from  the  old  garden  are  delightful  walks  to  beguile  one  to 
rustic  arbours,  seats  under  trees,  vine-covered  "summer-houses," 
honeysuckle,  shrubbery,  and  open  woods. 

In  the  wall  at  Mount  Airy  they  show  you  the  place  where  the 
old  copper-still  was  placed  in  colonial  times,  where  roses  of  the 
garden  were  distilled  into  rose-water  for  "my  lady's"  toilet  and 
bath.  And  the  garden,  also,  contributed  a  delicious  drink,  and 
many  a  distinguished  visitor  from  afar  has  wondered  if  the  far- 
famed  cup  which  Circe  gave  to  those  she  sought  to  beguile,  could 
have  been  half  so  fragrant  and  delicious  as  the  rose  wine  that  was 
made  at  Mount  Airy.  It  could  be  made  only  of  damask  roses, 
and  must  be  made  In  a  blue  bowl! 

Off  to  one  side  of  the  old  garden  site,  there  are  picturesque  brick 
arches  draped  with  Virginia  creeper  and  trumpet  vine  and  backed 
by  ancient  box-trees,  that  lend  a  foreign  touch;  these  are  the  ruins 
of  the  orangery  or  conservatory. 

Here  many  a  tropical  and  out-of-season  fruit  and  berry  was 
raised — pineapples,  oranges,  lemons,  etc.      One    English    visitor, 

[223] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Mr.  Baker,  coming  to  this  country  in  1827  and  visiting  Mount 
Airy,  speaks  of  "the  large  conservatory  with  orange  and  lemon 
trees  put  upon  the  grass."  And  in  the  biography  of  Thomas 
Dabney,  of  Gloucester,  one  reads  of  a  famous  dinner  given  to  the 
Marquis  de  LaFayette.  He  says,  "It  was  in  the  month  of  October, 
and  there  was  a  small  dish  of  red  Antwerp  raspberries,  sent  by 
Mrs.  Tayloe,  of  Mount  Airy.  They  came  from  her  hot-house, 
and  were  set  before  General  LaFayette." 

The  present  owners  of  Mount  Airy  use  the  three  sides  of 
the  bowling  green  for  flowers  and,  also,  below  the  terraces  on  either 
side  to  the  brink  of  the  hill.  The  borders  of  the  bowling  green  are 
a  glowing  mass  of  jonquils,  narcissi,  cowslips,  iris  in  the  spring. 
In  summer  these  are  followed  by  peonies,  pansies,  roses,  poppies, 
hollyhocks,  snapdragon,  larkspur,  phlox,  sweet  william,  canterbury 
bells,  ragged  robin,  and  madonna  lilies.  Asters  and  chrysanthe- 
mums usher  in  the  fall,  making  it  possible  to  have  flowers  following 
each  other  in  endless  succession,  the  house  always  filled  with  them. 

One  could  never  forget  the  great  central  hall,  so  high  pitched, 
so  softly  colored,  and  so  restful,  with  over  twenty  vases  of  flowers, 
a  strangely  sweet  and  Oriental  perfume  coming  from  the  sofa- 
pillows,  filled  with  dried,  wild  sweet  clover.  In  this  hall  are  many 
fine  pieces  of  old  furniture.  Everything  at  Mount  Airy  has 
grown  old  beautifully,  through  the  care  of  and  association  with 
gentle,  refined  people,  to  whom  living  was  an  art. 

Here  is  the  large  and  gaily-decorated  music  box,  where  a  hun- 
dred tunes  can  still  be  played.  How  often  have  the  belles  and 
beaux  of  long  ago  in  knee-breeches  and  patches  trod  a  stately 
measure  to  its  music;  for  Mount  Airy  was  as  famous  for  its 
lavish  hospitality  as  for  its  ardent  patriotism. 

The  faces  of  these  ancestral  folk  still  look  down  upon  one: 
Colonial  Governors,  Burgesses,  Ofl^cers  of  His  Majesty's  Army, 
and  beautiful  ladies  are  there.  One  English  visitor  to  this  country 
said  that  the  portrait  gallery  at  Mount  Airy  was  the  finest  private 
one  he  had  seen  in  this  country.     One  of  the  sweetest  faces  is  that 

[224] 


journal   of  tlie  American 
Institute   of   Architects 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

of  Mistress  Betty  Tayloe  who  is  the  heroine  of  one  of  Churchill's 
books. 

The  library  is  filled  with  books  and  there  are  many  prints  of 
race-horses  belonging  to  the  three  John  Tayloes,  for  the  first 
Colonel  John  Tayloe  was  a  pioneer  in  the  keeping  of  fine  race- 
horses in  Virginia.  They  had  their  own  race-track  at  Mount  Airy, 
and  all  the  neighboring  gentry  came  to  the  races — the  Turbevilles 
of  Hickory  Hill,  the  Carters  of  Sabine  Hall,  the  Corbins  of  Lane- 
ville,  the  Wormeleys  of  Rose  Gill,  the  Beverleys  of  Blandfield,  the 
Robbs  of  Gay  Mont,  and  many  others. 

Among  the  fine  pieces  of  silver  are  several  trophies  won  by 
Mount  Airy  horses.  They  no  longer  keep  race-horses,  but  the 
place,  the  people,  the  flowers,  and  the  atmosphere  are  the  same, 
and  one  hopes  that  time  will  deal  as  gently  with  them  in  the  future 
as  it  has  dealt  in  the  past. 

Hattie  Belle  Gresham. 


[225] 


AVENEL 

IR  WALTER  SCOTT  says,  "Breathes  there  the 
man  with  soul  so  dead  who  ne'er  to  himself  hath 
said,  'this  is  my  own,  my  native  land,'  "  and  is 
there  a  Virginian  whose  pulses  do  not  tingle  when 
there  lies  before  him  a  garden  the  beauty  of  which 
is  almost  eclipsed  by  the  long  series  of  historical 
memories  that  the  name  of  the  owners  and  the  plan  of  the  garden 
bring  to  his  mind? — Avenel — home  of  the  Beverleys — Avenel,  with 
one-half  of  its  garden  copied  from  Tudor  Place,  the  other,  the 
copy  of  Blandfield. 

With  the  very  name  comes  the  perfect  picture  of  Virginia  and 
Virginia's  best  life  from  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
For  it  was  that  William  Beverley,  the  emigrant's  own  grandson, 
and  his  wife,  Elizabeth  Bland,  who  first  laid  out  the  garden  at 
Blandfield.  That  same  first  master  of  Blandfield  was  the  son  of 
Robert  Beverley  and  his  wife,  Ursula  Byrd,  daughter  of  William 
Byrd  the  first.  This  Robert  Beverley,  you  remember,  was  the  first 
native  historian  of  Virginia.    All  honor  to  him ! 

The  beautiful  garden  of  Blandfield  by  long  closure  of  the  house 
has  practically  fallen  into  ruin;  but  we  can  picture  to  ourselves 
what  a  charm  it  had  from  frequent  allusions  to  it  in  old  letters;  and 
one  can  well  imagine  that  its  master,  William  Beverley,  would  have 
brought  to  it  the  same  intelligent  interest  that  caused  his  grand- 
father, William  Byrd  the  first,  to  write  in  1690  to  his  correspondent 
in  London,  one  Thomas  Wetherold,  that  he  had  "saved  many 
seeds,  but  all  had  been  ruined  except  the  ones  he  sent,  namely: 
Poppeas  Arbor,  Rhus  Sentisie,  folias,  Laurus  Tulipfera."  I  be- 
lieve that  most  of  the  seeds  that  were  saved  were  seeds  of  trees, 
but  what  is  a  garden  without  trees! 

In  1730,  Catesby,  the  naturalist  in  London,  wrote  to  his  niece  in 

[226] 


J.    Bradshaw    Beverley 


Bridal    W  reath    at    Prospect    Hill 


Prospect   Hill,   Caroline   County 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

Virginia,  Mrs.  Thomas  Jones,  "Virginia  cones,  acorns  and  seeds 
would  be  most  acceptable."  Robert  Beverley,  the  historian,  writ- 
ing about  1700,  tells  how  easily  and  abundantly  both  fruits  and 
flowers  were  grown  in  Virginia.  He  writes,  con  amore,  of  the 
tulip,  "the  perfection  of  flavor"  and  "all  sorts  of  herbs," 
and  "the  charming  colors  of  the  humming  birds  revelling  among 
the  blossoms,"  etc.  This  Virginia  historian  of  the  long  ago  shows 
the  same  knowledge  and  love  of  flowers  that  his  many-times  grand- 
son. Captain  James  Bradshaw  Beverley,  does  in  the  following 
sketch  of  the  old  garden  at  Avenel — a  garden  designed  more  than 
a  hundred  years  ago  by  James  Bradshaw  Beverley  and  his  wife, 
Jane  Peter  of  Georgetown,  the  grandparents  of  Captain  Beverley. 

The  garden  of  Avenel  was  formed  by  two  flower-knots,  which 
are  shown  in  the  diagram.  To  quote  from  Captain  Beverley,  "the 
flower-knots  which  were  at  Avenel  were  copied  by  my  grandparents, 
if  I  remember  aright,  the  one  on  the  right  from  'Tudor  Place'  and 
that  on  the  left  from  'Blandfield.'  "  In  drawing  them,  I  have  not 
attempted  mathematical  precision,  as  no  instruments  were  available; 
to  have  done  so  would  have  been  difficult.  And  no  drawing  could 
convey  to  you  the  beauty,  the  wooing  welcome,  the  dolce  far  n'lente 
of  it  all. 

Nothing  but  old-timey  flowers !  None  of  our  grand  new  roses, 
not  one.  Nothing  but  old-timey  flowers.  And  it  has  often  struck 
me  that  our  new  productions,  while  each  by  itself,  posing  for  its 
portrait,  as  it  were,  is  indeed  a  prince  of  beauty,  do  not  add  much 
to  the  looks  of  a  crowd.  Have  you  ever  seen,  at  a  cemetery,  a 
floral  tribute  composed  only  of  wild  flowers,  which  had  been  selected 
with  taste  and  arranged  with  a  sense  of  harmony?  The  florist's 
best  effort  meets  its  peer. 

No  drawing,  I  said — of  course  not — not  even  Paul  deLongpre's 
brush  could  have  done  those  flower-knots  justice.  And  yet  "the 
Sunburst"  and  "Mrs.  Charles  Russell"  were  not  there.  Only  the 
old  Damask,  the  Hundred-Leaf,  the  Hermosa  and  the  Daily,  the 
Harrisonian,  the  Champigny  and  Grevel.     Then  came  the  Giant 

[227] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

o'Battle,  and  later,  the  Jacqueminot  and  the  Bourbons  of  the  Agrip- 
pina  type.  The  first  I  recall  of  the  wonderful  Tea  family  was 
known  only  as  the  Tea  Rose.  I  have  often  wondered  if  it  had 
any  other  name. 

Over  the  four  arches  (poorly  suggested  in  the  diagram)  twined 
the  Grevel  or  Seven  Sisters.  No  regular  order  had  been  followed 
in  planting;  no  bedding,  no  grouping.  A  great  vine  of  yellow 
jasmine  (Gelsemium  sempervirens)  monopolized  the  "diamond" 
on  the  left  as  you  entered.  Trained  originally  up  a  single  post,  it 
wound  over  and  over  the  top  until  it  took  the  shape  of  a  huge 
shock  of  hay. 

In  the  center  of  each  circle  stood  a  large  iron  vase,  from  which 
verbenas  usually  hung  and  vainly  reached  earthward.  Spiraeas  of 
several  kinds,  Rose  of  Sharon,  deutzias,  and  a  calycanthus  were 
among  the  shrubs.  Between  and  among  the  roses  and  shrubs 
bloomed,  in  the  spring,  bulbs  of  all  sorts,  and  in  summer,  all  of  the 
old  annuals.  A  dense  honeysuckle  hedge  served  as  a  background 
and  obscured  the  vegetable  gardens  beyond.  These  terminated  at 
the  center  walk  in  two  large  lilac  clumps,  and  to  the  right  in  a  great 
bush  of  mock-orange. 

At  the  entrance,  between  two  o'er-arching  arbor  vitae  trees,  were 
permanent  seats.  And  many  other  seats,  during  the  fair  days  of 
summer,  were  added,  for  here  visitors  were  entertained,  and  here 
lovers  knew  they  would  not  be  intruded  upon,  if  by  good  luck,  they 
first  occupied  the  position. 

In  each  flower-knot,  yet  not  in  juxtaposition,  stood  a  grand  box- 
tree;  the  largest  I  have  ever  seen.  Within  one  of  these,  when  a 
lad,  I  constructed  a  seat,  and  hidden  there,  would  study  my  lessons 
and  then  read  Bulwer's  novels  and  Scott's  poems.  The  alleys  were 
all  evenly  sunken  about  eight  inches,  and  the  beds  and  borders  were 
held  up  in  line  by  a  narrow  bluegrass  edge.  These  grass  edges  were 
kept  trimmed  with  a  knife.  No  boy  of  the  family  has  ever  for- 
gotten this  part  of  it,  nor,  also,  of  helping  old  Moore,  the  negro 
gardener,  work  the  beds.     Speaking  of  Moore,  how  often  have  I 

[228] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

laughed  at  his  reply  to  my  sister  Rebekah.  She  had  expressed  her 
sympathy  for  us  because  of  the  scorching  sun,  yet  added:  "But, 
Moore,  'Man's  work  is  from  sun  to  sun,  while  woman's  work  is 
never  done.'  "  "Yes,  Miss  Becky — that's  sometimes  because  they 
never  do  it."      (He  had  trotted  her  on  his  knee  when  an  infant.) 

And  I  must  tell  you  of  another  apt  rejoinder  given  here.  A 
neighbor,  who  was  a  good  farmer,  but  lacking  in  the  esthetic,  was 
deprecating  the  amount  of  time  and  labor  "wasted  on  these 
flowers."  Goaded  by  a  positively  dissenting  view,  he  asserted,  "I'll 
bet  there  never  was  a  day  when  all  of  the  flowers  here  would  buy 
you  a  breakfast."  "Perhaps  not,"  was  the  rejoinder,  "but  in  con- 
struction I  do  not  happen  to  be  all  stomach." 

I  fear  that  I  have  allowed  my  memories  to  run  on  until  I  have 
wearied  you.  "However,"  say  I,  "alas  that  a  time  should  be  at 
hand  when,  with  the  country-folk,  the  struggle  for  a  livelihood  and 
the  scarcity  of  labor  should  ever  exclude  the  cultivation  of  the 
Beautiful!" 

Mary  Mason  Anderson  Williams. 


[229] 


PROSPECT    HILL 


HE  Tidewater  trail,  from  Fredericksburg  to  Nor- 
folk, which  passes  the  now  sleepy,  but  ancient  and 
historic,  little  village  of  Port  Royal,  is  a  popular 
and  interesting  highway,  and  many  of  the  roads 
which  lead  therefrom  extend  to  the  tourist  a  call 
so  inviting  that  the  summons  is  irresistible. 

About  ten  miles  from  Fredericksburg,  an  attractive  roadway 
leads  to  the  right  in  a  southeasterly  direction.  Great  branches  of 
oak,  sycamore,  maple,  and  elm  trees,  garlanded  with  honeysuckle, 
interlock  familiarly  above,  and  form  a  graceful  canopy  over  its 
hard,  smooth,  serpentine  surface,  carpeted  here  and  there  with 
pine-cones  and  needles. 

This  entrance-way  to  the  interior  of  historic  old  Caroline 
County,  with  its  sweeping  hills,  and  restful  valleys,  is  very  charming. 

Caroline  County!  which  gave  to  our  nation's  history  such  dis- 
tinguished men  as  Edmund  Pendleton,  William  Woodford,  Richard 
Brooke,  and  John  Taylor!  It  also  gave  the  Battailes,  Fitzhughs, 
and  Gordons.  The  latter  of  Flintshire,  Belvedere,  Santee  and 
Prospect  Hill.  It  was  the  home  of  the  Hays,  of  Hayfield;  the 
Corbins,  of  Moss  Neck,  and  others  are  closely  associated  with  the 
best  in  every  phase  of  the  social,  political,  and  religious  life  in 
Caroline  County. 

Many  of  the  homes  of  these  old  families,  long  past  the  century 
mark,  exhibit  a  peculiarly  picturesque  age,  with  entire  freedom  from 
that  detracting  quality,  often  the  result  of  years  of  indifference  on 
the  part  of  unappreciative  inmates. 

Santee,  familiarly  known  as  the  old  Gordon  place,  but  which 
was  originally  one  of  the  many  Fitzhugh  country  seats,  is  among 
the  most  interesting  estates  in  this  section.  Its  vine-hung  house  was 
built  by  Battaile  Fitzhugh  in  1807,  and  here,  as  in  days  of  yore, 

[230] 


Dora  C.   Jett 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

are  the  same  masses  of  boxwood  and  the  same  fine  park,  with  its 
kingly  forest  trees.  There  is  still  the  old  rose-garden  to  be  seen, 
too,  and  the  grapevine  dell.  It  was  in  the  latter  place,  possibly, 
that  Patsy,  the  beautiful  young  daughter  and  only  child  of  Battaile 
Fitzhugh,  plighted  her  troth  to  Samuel  Gordon,  Jr.,  of  historic 
Kenmore.  "I  love  you,"  said  Patsy,  with  a  radiant  blush,  "but  1 
cannot  leave  Santee." 

Ever  since  that  time  the  place  has  been  owned  and  occupied 
by  members  of  the  Gordon  family.  Today,  the  infant  grandson  of 
the  late  Robert  V.  Gordon,  holds  sway  at  the  loved  old  homestead. 

From  Santee,  a  half  mile's  stretch  of  woodland  road  leads  to 
Prospect  Hill.  The  vines  clinging  close  to  the  substantial  brick 
house;  the  great  sprawling  shade  trees,  with  every  evidence  of 
hoary,  but  well  preserved  and  worthy,  old  age;  the  fascinating 
brick  walkways,  overgrown  with  moss,  all  unite  to  give  to  Prospect 
Hill  that  charming  touch  of  days  gone  by,  which  lends  itself  so 
irresistibly  to  many  of  the  country  seats  in  Old  Virginia. 

The  present  house  on  the  old  Battaile  home  site  was  erected 
by  Basil  Gordon,  whose  daughter,  Mrs.  Charles  Herndon,  one 
of  the  best  loved,  and  one  of  the  oldest  residents  of  Fredericks- 
burg, remembers  distinctly  when,  as  a  little  child,  a  workman  held 
her  up,  so  that  she  might  have  a  wee  hand  in  placing  a  brick  in  its 
corner-stone. 

After  several  careful  owners  and  tenants,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  L. 
Gage  now  have  it  in  appreciative  possession. 

The  house  itself  is  most  attractive,  with  its  spacious  rooms, 
breezy  halls,  and  wonderful  woodwork.  The  pillars  of  the  porch, 
and  the  beams  and  boards  (some  of  the  latter  being  thirty-eight 
feet  in  length)  were  hewn  from  trees  in  the  nearby  woods.  But 
it  is  the  out-of-doors  surrounding  Prospect  Hill  that  holds  most 
charm.  In  the  adjacent  woodlands  are  some  old  gun-pits  and 
breastworks,  relics  of  the  War  Between  the  States.  In  the  old 
family  burying-ground,  not  far  away,  are  interesting  mementoes  of 
days  long  gone. 

[231] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

In  early  days,  one  of  the  first  requisites  considered  in  building 
the  beautiful  homes  of  Virginia  was  a  desirable  location.  This 
was  not  only  from  a  practical,  but  from  an  aesthetic  viewpoint. 
At  Prospect  Hill,  the  many  miles  of  swelling  hills,  smiling  valleys, 
whether  dressed  in  spring  verdure  or  autumn's  glorious  tints,  make 
a  landscape  so  pleasing  that  even  the  glint  of  silvery  water  is  not 
needed. 

But  there  is  more  to  Prospect  Hill  than  the  mere  beauty  of  its 
landscape.  It  has  always  held  an  unique  agricultural  value  from  the 
excellent  quality  of  the  grain  grown  there  and  the  special  flavor 
of  its  tobacco.  Besides  all  these  advantages,  the  place  held  a 
stronger  magnet  for  young  Henry  Fitzhugh,  of  Bedford,  across 
the  Rappahannock.  The  rumble  of  his  coach-and-four  along  the 
drive  at  Prospect  Hill  was  no  infrequent  sound,  and  on  a  fair  day 
in  October,  1748,  pretty  Sarah  Battaile  became  the  bride  of  the 
wealthy  heir  of  Bedford.  A  few  years  later,  Henry  Fitzhugh  was 
appointed  colonel  of  the  Stafford  County  militia. 

Go  to  Prospect  Hill  in  the  early  spring  season,  when  Nature's 
most  pleasing  plans  have  been  perfected.  Those  splendid  poplar, 
locust,  linden,  and  walnut  trees  have  lately  donned  their  spring 
attire.  Those  symmetrical  hollies  guarding  the  entrance  have  fresh- 
ened up  their  dress  a  bit.  Those  hedges,  beyond  the  vine-clad 
house,  are  brilliant  now  with  the  blossoms  of  early  spring  roses. 
The  robins,  wrens,  and  bluebirds  are  caroling  their  song  of  satis- 
faction. Mating  time  is  here,  and  homes,  whether  in  the  tall  tree- 
tops,  or  in  those  picturesque  bird-houses,  scattered  at  intervals  about 
the  trees  and  shrubbery,  are  reasons  enough  for  joyful  warble. 
That  lately  trimmed  hedge  of  privet,  on  the  east  side  of  the  house, 
is  groomed  to  perfection,  and  the  breeze  is  heavy  with  aromatic 
odors  from  the  dwarf-box,  which  borders  the  brick-paved  path  on 
the  west. 

And  the  bridal-wreath  at  Prospect  Hill!  Nowhere  does  this 
beautiful  shrub  attain  the  same  grace  and  luxuriance.  In  wreaths 
and  garlands  and  plumes  it  waves  in  the  gentle  wind  on  this  Vir- 

[232] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

ginia  hilltop.  A  forest  of  dainty  white  blossoms  is  massed  on 
each  side  of  the  house  on  the  west.  Countless  numbers  of  min- 
iature roses  they  appear.  On  the  east  an  avenue  of  the  same  shrub 
meets  the  privet  hedge,  still  other  avenues  of  snowy-white  blossoms 
extend  to  the  tangle  of  roses  and  honeysuckle,  near  the  vegetable 
garden. 

Then,  when  summer  comes,  shrubs  and  flowers  sparkle  in  their 
gorgeous  colors.  There  are  masses  of  weigela,  summer  lilacs, 
phlox,  clematis,  and  calycanthus.  Roses,  iris,  and  other  gay 
perennials  vie  with  each  other  in  color  and  fragrance.  They  dot 
the  emerald  lawn,  some  in  the  blazing  summer  sunshine,  others  in 
the  softened  shade  of  the  mimosa  and  the  fir  trees.  Between  the 
flowering  quince  and  the  euonymus  bush  is  sunk  the  shallow,  con- 
crete bath  for  the  birds.  With  hearts  filled  full  of  the  joy  of  living, 
they  chatter  over  their  daily  splash.  Bees  are  lazily  droning  out 
their  same  old  summer  song.  Butterflies  are  flirting  with  their 
favorite  flowers.  The  timid  squirrel  peeps  from  the  blossoming 
shrubbery;  but,  like  a  flash,  he  is  safe  in  the  tall  treetop.  All 
nature  is  in  tune  with  the  season. 

If  the  Battailes  and  Gordons  of  the  olden  days  at  Prospect  Hill 
were  ambitious  for  the  future  of  the  loved  old  garden,  their 
brightest  hopes  are  realized.  At  every  season  it  is  one  of  the 
loveliest  in  all  this  section  of  beautiful  garden  spots. 

Dora  C.  Jett. 


[233] 


GAY   MONT 


HE  garden  at  Gay  Mont  lies  on  a  high  hill 
overlooking  the  Rappahannock  River  and  Valley, 
twenty  miles  below  the  historic  town  of  Fredericks- 
burg. It  is  beautifully  located  and  commands  a 
wonderful  view  of  the  surrounding  country. 

This  estate,  which  formerly  comprised  some 
tv.'o  thousand  acres,  was  part  of  the  Miller  grant.  Unfortunately, 
the  early  records  of  Caroline  County  were  destroyed  or  carried 
away  by  the  Union  troops  during  the  War  Between  the  States, 
making  it  difficult  to  obtain  exact  data.  It  is  certain,  however, 
that  it  was  afterwards  part  of  the  Catlett  estate,  and  was  purchased 
from  Mr.  Catlett  in  1790,  by  John  Hipkins,  of  "Belle  Grove," 
King  George  County,  Virginia,  who  on  his  death  left  it  to  his  grand- 
son, John  Hipkins  Bernard. 

The  original  house  comprised  only  the  central,  or  two-story 
portion  of  the  present  building  and  was  erected  about  1725.  Two 
wings,  one  at  either  end,  were  added  in  1798,  and  the  octagon- 
shaped  music  room  at  the  back  in  1830.  The  latter  opens  on  a 
small  porch,  from  the  steps  of  which  one  can  look  down  the 
central  garden  walk  to  the  sundial. 

John  Hipkins  Bernard  upon  reaching  his  majority  went  abroad 
for  several  years  and  on  his  return  brought  with  him  many  things  • 
for  his  home,  including  landscape  wallpaper — then  a  novelty  in 
France — for  the  Gay  Mont  hall,  parlor  and  dining-room.  The 
paper  in  the  hall  shows  brightly  colored  Italian  scenes,  that  in  the 
parlor  represents  the  Bay  of  Naples  in  soft  grey  tones,  while  that 
for  the  dining-room  pictures  mythological  characters  in  sepia. 

Mr.  Bernard  also  brought  over  two  English  gardeners  who 
remodeled  the  grounds  and  garden  into  their  present  form.  That 
a  rose  garden  antedated  their  arrival  and  was  a   feature  of  the 

[234] 


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The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

place  from  its  beginning,  is  apparent  from  the  original  name  "Rose 
Hill"  which  Mr.  Bernard  changed  to  "Gay  Mont"  in  honor  of 
his  bride,  Miss  Jane  Gay  Robertson,  of  Richmond,  Virginia. 

The  portico  at  Gay  Mont  is  supported  by  six  large  pillars  with 
balustrades  between,  and  is  enclosed  at  each  end  by  the  wings. 
Between  the  windows  opening  on  the  portico  and  at  either  end  are 
plaster  busts  of  Washington,  Franklin,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  Scott, 
Byron,  Napoleon  and  LaFayette. 

In  front  of  the  portico  is  the  driveway,  and  beyond  are  three 
terraces,  each  three  hundred  feet  in  length.  The  last  terrace,  twice 
the  depth  of  the  first  two,  broadens  out  at  its  base  into  a  semi- 
circle at  either  end,  and  has  a  border  of  roses  its  entire  length. 
Between  the  second  and  third  terrace  there  is  a  small  formal 
garden,  in  the  shape  of  a  circle,  consisting  of  four  plots  separated 
by  gravel  walks,  with  a  fountain  in  the  center  surrounded  by  conch 
shells  and  ivy.  This  little  garden  was  christened  "The  Beauty 
Spot,"  by  which  name  it  is  still  known.  The  water  supplying  the 
fountain  was  brought  in  lead  pipes  from  a  reservoir  in  the  rear  of 
the  house,  and  after  the  War  Between  the  States,  when  ammunition 
was  scarce,  the  lead  from  the  pipe  was  made  into  "slugs,"  and  used 
instead  of  shot  by  the  huntsmen  of  the  family. 

In  connection  with  the  fountain  there  is  an  amusing  story  told 
of  a  small  dog  which  had  been  trained  to  turn  the  wheel  which 
supplied  the  water.  He  would  sit  on  the  lower  terrace  overlooking 
the  avenue,  intently  watching  for  visitors,  and  on  seeing  them  ap- 
proach would  dash  to  the  wheel  and  work  violently  in  order  to  have 
the  fountain  spraying  freely  by  the  time  the  host  greeted  his  guests 
at  the  front  door. 

At  either  end  of  the  house  there  is  a  circular  rose  garden  sur- 
rounded by  box-bushes.  Formerly  this  box  was  kept  neatly  trimmed, 
but  it  has  long  been  allowed  to  grow  at  random  and  has  now 
assumed  the  form  of  great,  round  masses,  higher  than  a  man's  head. 
At  the  back  of  the  house,  separated  from  the  lawn  by  trees  and 
shrubs,     is    the    garden    proper,    consisting    of    a    gravel    walk, 

[235] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

three  hundred  feet  long,  parallel  to  the  lawn,  and  three  lateral  walks, 
ending  in  a  wide  terrace.  Mr.  Bernard  is  said  to  have  brought 
shiploads  of  gravel  from  Bermuda  for  these  walks,  as  well  as  conch 
shells  for  the  fountains.  The  walks  were  bordered  with  shrubs— 
pyrus  japonica,  forsythia,  spiraea  in  all  varieties,  lilac,  snowball, 
weigela,  althea,  syringa,  mock  orange  and  others.  These  were 
trimmed  to  form  arches  over  the  paths.  Between  the  walks  were 
formal  gardens  laid  out  in  the  shape  of  diamonds  and  filled  with 
many  old-fashioned  flowers.  Peonies  seem  to  have  been  the  favorite 
centerpiece.  On  either  side  of  this  flower  garden,  separated  by 
walks,  were  two  large  squares  devoted  to  small  fruits  and  vege- 
tables. A  hedge,  formerly  of  roses  but  now  of  althea,  encloses 
the  whole  garden. 

In  addition  to  the  lawns  and  garden,  a  large  part  of  the  estate 
of  Gay  Mont  was  given  over  to  what  might  be  called  pleasure 
grounds.  On  the  north  side  of  the  hill  was  a  deer  park  of  eight 
acres,  with  clumps  of  beautiful  holly  and  enormous  tulip  poplars. 
Mr.  Bernard  had  a  great  love  for  trees  and  imported  many  kinds, 
not  only  for  the  immediate  grounds  but  also  for  the  hillsides.  Some 
years  ago  fifty  varieties  were  counted  within  a  comparatively  short 
distance  of  the  house,  among  them  a  variety  of  French  chestnut,  still 
vigorous  and  bearing  nuts. 

To  the  south  of  the  hill  ran  "Golden  Vale  Creek,"  the  name 
given  it  on  an  old  atlas  printed  before  Washington  was  founded. 
Its  waters  were  dammed  to  form  a  pond,  and  stocked  with  fish. 
Here  Mr.  Bernard  loved  to  entertain  his  friends,  and  it  was  no 
doubt,  the  scene  of  many  gay  parties.  A  large,  round  stone  table, 
and  a  spring  enclosed  by  stone  slabs  are  all  that  now  remain  to 
mark  the  spot. 

As  horseback  riding  was  the  favorite  pastime  of  Mr.  Bernard's 
daughters,  he  built  for  them  a  private  road  through  the  woods  and 
"the  long  meadow."  This  road  crossed  a  small  creek  seven  or 
eight  times  by  rustic  bridges;  the  upkeep  of  both  road  and  bridges 
was  given  over  to  "Uncle  Roly,"  a  faithful  slave.     "Uncle  Roly" 

[236] 


The  Potomac  and  Rappahannock 

loved  to  tell  stories  of  the  past  and  always  began  his  tales  by 
saying,  "He  had  more  recollections  than  he  could  remember," 
He  loved  to  boast  that  "Ole  Missis'  flowers  was  so  sweet  you 
could  smell  'em  a  mile  away — jest  as  soon  as  you  turn'd  into 
de  abenue." 

During  the  War  Between  the  States,  Gay  Mont,  from  its  com- 
manding position,  narrowly  escaped  having  a  battery  placed  on  the 
hill.  This  would  have  made  it  a  target  for  the  gunboats  which 
shelled  Port  Royal  and  vicinity.  The  officers  sent  to  place  the 
battery  desisted  at  the  earnest  entreaties  of  the  women  of  the 
family.  Two  of  Mr.  Bernard's  daughters  remained  at  Gay  Mont 
with  their  faithful  servants  during  the  entire  war,  thus  no  doubt 
saving  the  place  from  destruction.  General  Abercrombie,  the  Union 
commander  stationed  in  Port  Royal,  showed  them  great  courtesy 
and  kindness.  Many  nights  these  young  ladies  sat  in  a  low  window 
holding  by  the  bridle  their  favorite  horses,  "Ariel"  and  "Empress," 
to  prevent  them  from  being  stolen.  These  horses  were  finally  taken, 
however,  but  were  instantly  released  when  the  owners  appeared 
next  day  at  headquarters  and  begged  their  return.  General  Aber- 
crombie then  sent  a  special  guard  to  protect  Gay  Mont  from  further 
interference  while  the  Northern  troops  remained  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

The  Confederate  officers  encamped  around  Fredericksburg — 
General  J.  E.  B.  Stuart  and  his  staff  among  them — were  frequent 
visitors  at  Gay  Mont.  General  Stuart  was  very  fond  of  a  music 
box  in  the  library  and  would  often  enter  the  house  unobserved  and 
announce  his  arrival  by  playing  some  familiar  air.  A  chair  much 
scratched  by  his  buttons  was  long  kept  as  a  souvenir  of  his  visits. 

Major  Duncan  McKim,  "the  gallant  Pelham,"  and  other  officers 
were  dining  at  Gay  Mont  the  evening  before  the  Battle  of  Fred- 
ericksburg, when  a  courier  arrived  summoning  them  to  head- 
quarters. So  furious  was  the  cannonading  in  that  battle  that  the 
big  bell  over  the  kitchen  and  the  smaller  servants'  bells  which  hung 
outside   the   several   windows,   all    rang   while   the  battle   was    in 

[237] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

progress.     Several  of  the  guests  of  the  preceding  day  were  killed 
in  this  battle. 

The  servant  bells  attached  to  the  windows  at  Gay  Mont  deserve 
mention  only  as  relics  of  by-gone  days.  Each  room  had  its  bell, 
rung  by  means  of  a  cord  within,  to  summon  a  servant  whenever 
wanted.  One  wonders  how  many  servants  were  required  and  where 
stationed  to  catch  and  locate  the  sound  of  these  bells,  hung  into 
space  from  any  window  of  the  rambling  old  house. 

Like  many  Virginia  homes,  Gay  Mont  suffered  severely  during 
the  War  Between  the  States  and  the  years  following,  when  the  labor 
necessary  for  its  upkeep  could  not  be  obtained.  But  so  well  had 
the  original  plans  been  carried  out  and  moulded  into  terraces  and 
other  enduring  landmarks  that  today  Gay  Mont  reflects  honor  on 
those  who  planned  and  those  who  carried  the  plans  to  completion. 

In  the  division  of  the  estate.  Gay  Mont  was  bought  in  by  Helen 
Struan  Bernard,  youngest  daughter  of  John  Bernard,  who  in  1865 
was  married  to  Philip  Lightfoot  Robb.  whose  children  still  make 
it  their  home. 

John  Bernard  Robb. 


[238] 


-S    8 


II 


The  Piedmont  Section 


OAK    HILL 

"By  a  garden  is  meant  a  place  of  spiritual  repose — stillness — peace — refresh- 
ment— delight." — Cardinal  Newman. 

AK  HILL,  the  stately  home  of  James  Monroe,  in 
Loudoun  County,  Virginia,  was  built  by  him  while 
President  of  the  United  States. 

The  place  took  its  name  from  an  avenue  of 
giant  oaks  towering  above  all  other  trees  on  the 
spacious  lawn.  At  Oak  Hill  today  there  may  be 
seen  a  letter  from  President  Monroe  written  from  the  White  House 
to  William  Benton,  the  manager  of  the  estate.  In  this  letter  the 
President  gives  instructions  regarding  the  avenue  leading  from  the 
house  to  the  public  road  and  states  that  it  is  to  be  lined  with  Lom- 
bardy  poplars  planted  as  he  directs. 

This  President  chose  wisely  in  selecting  Loudoun  County  as  his 
home.  In  the  distance  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  ever  veiled  in  a 
blue  and  violet  haze,  and  around  him  an  undulating,  varied  land- 
scape whose  climate,  except  for  one  district  in  the  hill  country  of 
Bavaria,  has  been  shown  by  health  statistics  to  be  the  most  healthful 
region  In  the  world. 

The  plan  of  the  house  is  said  to  follow  that  of  the  White 
House,  and  Is  a  striking  example  of  the  taste  In  the  early  years 
of  the  Republic  for  the  severely  classical  in  domestic  architecture. 
It  is  built  of  brick,  and  its  great  portico  is  graced  by  seven  massive 
Doric  columns,  nine  feet  in  circumference  and  thirty  feet  high. 

The  flower  garden  lying  at  the  rear  of  the  house  is  overlooked 
by  the  porch  which,  In  most  Georgian  manor  houses,  characterized 
the  rear,  or  more  private  entrance.  The  ground  slopes  slightly 
from  the  house,  and  while  the  garden  Is  not  a  large  one,  it  is  laid 
out  In  fine  proportions,  and  with  taste.  There  are  three  terraces, 
and  with  such  a  setting  one  can  Imagine  the  beauty  of  masses  of 

[241] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

lilac  bushes  on  either  side  of  the  terraces;  the  most  beloved  flower 
of  spring.  In  many  colonial  dooryards,  it  was  the  only  shrub, 
known  both  to  lettered  and  unlettered  folk  as  Laylock  and  spelt 
Laylock. 

In  the  original  Oak  Hill  gardens  were,  no  doubt,  scores  of  old- 
time  favorites — flower-de-luce,  peonies,  daffodils,  merry  phlox,  and 
as  a  background,  the  green  of  massive  oaks,  which  revealed  Presi- 
dent Monroe's  love  of  trees. 

Although  the  Oak  Hill  garden  does  not  now  bear  comparison 
for  elaborateness  with  other  gardens  in  historic  Loudoun  and  Fau- 
quier, it  has  been  the  care  of  various  flower-loving  women  from 
time  to  time.  With  its  changes  in  ownership  the  garden  has  never 
lost  its  distinction. 

During  many  years  of  her  occupancy  of  Oak  Hill,  it  was  the 
pleasure  of  Mrs.  Henry  Fairfax  to  see  that  the  garden  preserved 
its  beauty,  and  she  welcomed  into  It  with  gracious  hospitality  many 
discriminating  guests. 

Describing  the  garden  Mrs.  Fairfax  says,  "The  Oak  Hill 
garden  is  very  simple  but  sweet  and  satisfactory  with  a  profusion 
of  bloom  from  early  flowering  bulbs  and  shrubs  to  the  cosmos  and 
chrysanthemum  of  late  autumn.  It  slopes  to  the  south  and  the  west 
and  comprises  about  one  acre  enclosed  on  three  sides  by  a  privet 
hedge.  The  fourth  or  north  side  is  bound  by  a  wire  fence  almost 
covered  and  concealed  by  rose  vines.  This  gives  the  appearance  of 
a  continuation  of  the  garden  as  a  part  of  the  lawn. 

"The  entrance  gate  is  in  the  center  of  the  garden  and  has  a 
rose-covered  arch  above  it  with  box  bushes  on  each  side.  At  this 
gate  one  looks  through  three  rose-covered  arches — one  on  each 
terrace — down  a  turfed  path  to  a  white  marble  sundial  beyond 
which  range  the  lovely  Bull  Run  hills  or  mountains.  Within  the 
gate,  one  finds  on  either  side  a  border  of  roses  along  the  fence. 
A  three-foot  path  runs  with  the  first  terrace  east  and  west  for  one 
hundred  feet.  Below  this  are  t^^o  more  terraces  about  thirty  feet 
wide  which  extends  east  and  west.    That  on  the  east  is  flanked  by  a 

[242] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


long  terrace  running  north  and  south  for  perhaps  two  hundred  feet 
and  gradually  dwindling  away  into  the  natural  slope  at  the 
south  end.  This  natural  slope  gives  the  appearance  of  a  sunken 
garden.  The  east  and  west  terraces  are  divided  into  beds  and 
borders  by  grass  walks  and  are  planted  with  shrubs,  roses,  peren- 
nials, and  many  varieties  of  the  best  flowers  for  cutting.  At  one 
time  the  rest  of  the  garden  was  given  over  to  small  fruits,  grapes 
and  vegetables." 

Monroe  retired  from  the  Presidency  in  1825,  and  the  remaining 
years  of  his  life  were  divided  between  Oak  Hill  and  the  residence 
of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Gouverneur,  of  New  York. 

After  his  strenuous  life  as  an  officer  in  the  Revolutionary  Army, 
member  of  Congress,  member  of  United  States  Senate,  twice  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  and  three  times  ambassador  to  foreign 
courts,  one  loves  to  think  of  Monroe's  joy  in  his  home,  surrounded 
by  friends  and  loved  ones.  Among  the  latter  was  the  Marquis  de 
LaFayette,  who  came  to  this  country  as  his  guest,  and  with  whom 
the  closest  bonds  of  friendship  existed.  They  had  shared  the 
dangers  and  privations  of  the  Revolutionary  Army.  It  is  said  that 
Monroe,  while  Minister  to  France,  effected  the  release  of  Madame 
de  LaFayette,  when  the  latter  was  confined  in  the  prison  of  LaForce, 
hourly  expecting  to  be  executed. 

In  the  house  are  exquisite  marble  mantels,  presented  by 
LaFayette,  and  many  pieces  of  handsome  furniture. 

The  beloved  wife  of  James  Monroe  died  at  Oak  Hill  in  1830 
and  was  buried  on  the  lawn,  under  the  majestic  oaks,  as  was  also 
his  daughter,  Mrs.  Gouverneur.  After  his  death,  the  bodies  of 
the  wife  and  daughter  were  removed  to  Richmond,  Virginia,  by  the 
Legislature,  and  rest  in  Hollywood  Cemetery  on  each  side  of  the 
illustrious  husband  and  father. 

Samuel  L.  Gouverneur,  Jr.,  grandson  of  the  latter,  was  greatly 
distressed  when  Oak  Hill  was  about  to  pass  from  his  family  in 
1852.  He  had  spent  many  happy  hours  there  and  a  few  days  before 
the  place  was  sold  wrote  a  Farewell  to  the  place. 


[243] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 


"The  autumn  rains  are  falling  fast, 
Earth,  the  heavens  are  overcast; 
The  rushing  winds  mournful  sigh, 
Whispering,  alas  !  good-bye ; 

To  each  fond  remembrance  farewell  and  forever, 
Oak  Hill  I  depart  to  return  to  thee  never! 

"The  mighty  oaks  beneath  whose  shade 
In  boyhood's  happier  hours  I've  played. 
Bend  to  the  mountain  blast's — wild  sweep. 
Scattering  spray  they  seem — to  weep; 
To  each  moss-grown  tree  farewell  and  forever. 
Oak  Hill  I  depart  to  return  to  thee  never! 

"Oh,  home  of  my  boyhood,  why  must  I  depart? 
Tears  I  am  shedding  and  wild  throbs  my  heart; 
Home  of  my  manhood,  oh !  would  I  had  died 
And  lain  me  to  rest  by  my  dead  mother's  side. 
Ere  my  tongue  could  have  uttered  farewell  and  forever. 
Oak  Hill  I  depart  to  return  to  thee  never !" 

In  after  years  Mr.  Gouverneur  could  never  be  induced  to  visit 
the  place. 

One  could  dream  dreams  of  lovely  women  and  brave  men 
who  walked  under  the  lilac  bushes.  Fascinating  Dolly  Madison, 
with  the  stately  LaFayette,  Thomas  Jefferson  and  lovely  Mrs. 
Monroe,  Martha  Jefferson  and  the  distinguished  owner.  The 
ladies'  hair  piled  high  in  puffs,  ornamented  with  tall  tortoise-shell 
combs,  the  sleeves  bouffant  with  cushion  of  feathers,  pointed  waists, 
and  flowered  skirts. 

One  can  imagine  them  pause  by  the  sundial  inscribed: 

"Time  is  too  Slow  for  those  who  Wait, 
Too  Swift  for  those  who  Fear, 
Too  Long  for  those  who  Grieve, 
Too  Short  for  those  who  Rejoice, 
But  for  those  who  Love 
Time  is  Eternity." 

Maria  Powell  Thomas. 
[244] 


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Driveway  Planned   by  President  Monroe  at   Oak  Hill 


The  Portico  at  Oak  Hill 


# 


^ 


VEG, 


VEG. 


GAP^DEN  AT 

OAK  HILL 

LOUDOUN    COUNTY  VA. 


Mftrupolitati    Engraving   Co. 


OATLANDS* 


is  about  forty  miles  from  Washington  and  a  little 
off  the  beaten  track,  perhaps,  but  it  is  well  worth  a 
visit  because  the  house  and  garden  are  not  only 
old,  as  age  goes  in  America,  but  beautiful  besides. 
That  part  of  the  country  where  it  is  situated  is 
sometimes  called  Piedmont  Virginia — "the  foot  of 
the  mountain" — with  the  Blue  Ridge  some  twenty  miles  away,  and 
the  upper  Potomac  River  not  far  off  to  the  east.  The  place  itself 
is  known  as  "Oatlands  House." 

The  house  and  garden  at  Oatlands  were  built  almost  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  years  ago  by  George  Carter,  fourth  son  of  Robert 
Carter,  of  Nomini  Hall.  Robert  Carter,  known  to  the  Virginia 
of  Revolutionary  and  post-Revolutionary  days  as  Councillor  Carter, 
was  a  man  of  great  distinction,  whose  family  life  is  described  in 
terms  of  no  unusual  interest  by  his  children's  tutor,  the  author  of 
Fithians  Diary. 

But  the  earliest  Carter  to  stamp  his  mark  on  Colonial  Virginia 
was  Councillor  Carter's  grandfather,  another  Robert,  whose  vast 
acres,  derived  from  crown  grants,  gained  him  the  patronymic  of 
"King  Carter" — in  all  the  colony,  one  of  the  foremost  land-owners 
and  influences  of  those  days. 

King  Carter  lived  at  Corotoman,  and  his  eldest  son  succeeded 
him  there,  but  his  grandson  built  Nomini  Hall,  and  his  great-grand- 
son left  Tidewater  Virginia,  to  settle  in  what  was,  then,  the  back- 
woods, the  frontier  almost,  of  the  Old  Dominion.  One  of  thirteen 
children,  he  was  given  three  thousand  acres  by  his  father,  north  and 
south  of  Goose  Creek,  and  some  six  miles  south  of  the  little  town  of 
Leesburg,  in  Loudoun  County.     There,  still  imbued  with  the  Eng- 


*In  1902  Oatlands  became  the  property  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Corcoran 
Eustis,   under  whose   appreciative   guidance   it  has  been   restored   and  beautified. 


[245] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

lish  traditions  which  governed  in  the  more  civilized  portions  of  the 
State,  he  built  a  Georgian  house  and  a  walled-in  terraced  garden. 
The  garden  recalls  the  English  formal  garden,  which  derived  some 
of  its  inspiration  from  Italian  models — yet  its  atmosphere  is 
typically  Virginian. 

George  Carter  started  the  building  of  the  house  in  1800,  from 
bricks  made  on  the  place  by  his  slaves,  and  was,  in  large  measure, 
his  own  architect.  He  ordered  the  Corinthian  columns  from  New 
York,  however,  giving  minute  directions  as  to  their  size  and  carv- 
ing; and,  old  books  on  architecture,  in  the  possession  of  his  family, 
and  his  letters,  besides,  show  that  he  devoted  much  time  to  the 
planning  of  the  house  and  the  right  proportion  of  doors,  windows, 
cornices,  etc.  It  would  be  interesting,  if  one  could  but  look  back- 
ward with  clear  enough  vision,  to  see  the  house  rising  from  its 
foundations,  black  labour  under  white  overseers,  piling  brick  upon 
brick,  to  the  accompaniment,  doubtless,  of  old  plantation  songs. 
Then  the  arrival,  after  long,  devious  journeys,  on  boat  and  over 
single  track,  corduroy,  or  deep  mud  roads,  through  the  forest 
wilderness,  of  those  white  columns  from  the  North. 

How  self-sufficing  they  were,  the  country  land-owners  and 
planters  of  those  days,  turning  to  account  all  the  resources  at  hand, 
living  on  what  the  land  could  furnish,  and  converting  it  into  bread, 
meat,  clothing,  building  and  hard  cash!  The  Virginians,  however, 
did  more  than  this,  they  derived  an  aesthetic  enjoyment  from  the 
development  of  things  beautiful  about  them,  and  so  George  Carter, 
when  he  had  finished  his  house,  turned  to  the  building  of  his  enchant- 
ing garden. 

No  papers  remain  to  show  where  he  got  his  ideas,  nor  how  he 
put  them  into  execution.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  this  garden  was  his 
hobby,  that  he  cut  oak  trees,  on  the  hillside  to  the  east  of  the  house, 
to  build  it;  brought  the  soil  from  the  meadow-lands  near  the  creek, 
to  make  easy  the  growing  of  the  things  he  wished  to  plant,  and 
walled  it  in  with  home-made  brick.  No  other  gardens  were  being 
built  in  Loudoun  County  at  that  time,  perhaps  very  little  interest 

[246] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


was  taken  in  gardening,  but,  the  proverbial  Virginian  hospitality 
must  have  brought  many  visitors  to  admire  beauty  which  the  owner 
of  Oatlands  was  creating,  not  by  the  aid  of  landscape  gardeners, 
but  from  his  own  good  taste  modified  by  the  study  of  English  pat- 
terns. He  planted  box — the  American  tree-box — seeing,  with  the 
eye  of  a  prophet,  the  time  when  those  dark  branches  should  meet 
over  a  descending  path,  forming  an  archway  of  rare  beauty.  He 
planted  it,  also,  by  the  side  of  a  steep  staircase  opposite  brick 
buildings  used  as  tool  and  lumber-rooms,  now  long  since  crumbled 
into  soil  and,  surrounding  the  vault  where  he  was  to  be  laid. 
But  he  did  not  neglect  the  English  hedge-box,  either;  and  his 
grandchildren  tell  of  places  where  the  box  edging  set  off,  to  their 
best  advantage,  roses  and  other  vari-colored  flowers.  These  low 
hedges  have  gone — remaining  only  as  memories — with  most  of 
the  shrubs  and  the  old-time  blossoms.  But  enough  stays,  as  a  back- 
ground and  a  setting  to  all  the  beauty  which  modern  taste  and 
knowledge  have  brought  to  it. 

The  Oatlands  garden,  especially  in  May  or  June,  when  the 
spiraea  and  flags  are  in  full  bloom,  when  colour  runs  riot  every- 
where, has  that  indefinable  flavour  of  the  past  wrapt  around  it 
which  marks  it  as  a  thing  separate  from  the  garden  of  today  or 
even  of  yesterday.  For  people  walked  in  its  alleys  and  paths,  by 
the  shade  of  its  walls,  made  love  under  the  shadow  of  its  trees, 
when  America  was  very  young,  when  President  Monroe  was  build- 
ing his  country  home,  some  three  miles  away,  beyond  the  creek; 
before  the  years  of  strife  and  war,  and  when  tragic  memories  still 
hung  low  over  the  Virginia  hills.  Federal  troops  passed  through 
the  grounds,  cavalry  trampled  over  lawns  and  flower  beds,  and  in 
the  house,  the  daughter-in-law  of  the  builder  of  Oatlands  guarded 
a  secret  hiding  place  for  Confederate  scouts  when  hard  pressed  by 
Northern  raiders. 

So  that  those  walls  and  terraces  have  known  of  gay  days  and 
sad;  of  romance  and  grief;  and  if  spirits  revisit  their  old  haunts 
on   earth,  many  may  flit  about  on  moonlight  nights,    along  the 

[247] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

bowling  green,  or  by  the  vault,  or  in  the  wistaria  arbour,  near  the 
south  gate.  It  Is  this  atmosphere  that  gives  the  garden  Its  charm, 
and  makes  It  speak,  a  different  language  from  that  of  the  most 
beautiful  gardens  of  this  age. 

When  the  present  owners  bought  it — not  from  the  Carters — 
but  from  one  who  had  not  sensed  Its  beauties,  the  Oatlands  garden 
was  falling  Into  ruins;  bricks  were  crumbling,  weeds  crowding  the 
flowers  and  yet  the  very  moss-grown  paths  seemed  to  say,  "We  are 
still  what  we  were."  It  was  a  thankful  task  to  restore  the  old 
beauty,  although  the  thoughts  and  conceptions  were  new,  but  they 
fitted  It,  and  every  stone  vase  or  bench,  every  box-hedge  planted, 
seemed  to  fall  into  Its  rightful  place  and  become  a  part  of  the  whole. 
Certain  Improvements  were  made — improvements  the  old  designer 
and  builder  would  have  approved;  fruit  trees,  hiding  huge  box  and 
yew,  were  cut  down,  and  a  rosary  laid  out  as  a  counterpart  to  the 
box-grove.     It  was  not  always  easy  to  get  the  right  effect. 

More  than  one-half  of  the  garden  can  be  seen  from  several 
vantage  points:  from  the  upper  balustrade,  looking  down;  from  the 
oak  grove,  looking  up,  and  from  each  separate  terrace.  The  things 
to  be  striven  for — mystery,  variety,  the  unexpected — were  difficult 
of  attainment;  but  In  certain  places  they  have  been  attained.  The 
tall  north  wall,  with  brick  coping  and  Its  small  beds  above  descend- 
ing stone  walls — just  the  same  as  In  Carter  days;  a  shady,  almost 
neglected  spot,  where  the  grass  grows  too  tall  sometimes,  is  a  thing 
apart  from  the  rest.  Then  the  rose  garden  with  Its  background  of 
tall  box  and  pine,  in  an  enclosure  of  dark-green  fencing,  cedar 
posts  and  chains,  overhung  with  Dorothy  Perkins  roses,  cannot  be 
seen  until  you  turn  a  corner  and  are  on  it  unawares.  And  the 
bowling  green,  a  long  stretch  of  greensward,  bordered  by 
euonymus,  flowering  shrubs  and  Oriental  Biota,  is  nearly  always 
shaded,  giving  that  sense  of  stillness  and  remoteness  which  a  hidden 
mass  of  green  so  often  suggests.  At  one  end  of  It,  the  tall  north 
wall  shields  It  from  blustering  winds;  at  the  other  a  sunny,  white- 
pillared  tea-house  overlooks  a  grove  of  great  oaks  which,  more 

[248] 


J 

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Mrs.  William  C.  Eustis 


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The     Piedmont     Section 


than  house  or  garden,  is  the  living  glory  of  Oatlands.  The  rest  of 
the  garden — the  staircase,  box-hedges  and  brick  pilasters  to  one 
side,  with  a  great  ivy-clad  wall  to  the  other,  a  larch  tree  crowning 
the  whole;  and,  looking  down  and  southward,  an  old  pink  Venetian 
well  head,  protecting  a  deep,  cool  well.  Then  the  terraces,  bearing 
some  vases,  a  sundial,  many  low  box-hedges,  and  innumerable 
flowers — they  finish  the  tale.  But  the  brick  walls  and,  in  one  place, 
a  slender  white  fence,  shut  it  all  in  and  give  it  that  sense  of 
separateness,  of  a  certain  aloofness  almost,  befitting  the  guardian 
of  treasures,  the  storehouse  of  old  secrets. 

The  Oatlands  garden  should  be  visited  In  the  springtime  first, 
I  believe,  so  as  to  see  the  peonies  and  iris,  after  the  tulips  have 
faded.  Later,  the  hot  summer  sun  robs  it  of  some  of  its  charm; 
but  the  late  afternoon  hours,  before  or  after  twilight,  call  you 
imperatively  to  wander  over  the  grass  walks  when  the  heliotrope 
and  mignonette  smell  strongest,  and  the  mocking-birds  and  catbirds 
speak  to  each  other  incessantly.  Or,  again,  there  are  the  lovely 
autumn  days,  days  of  cosmos  and  chrysanthemum,  and  in  Novem- 
ber or  December,  when  the  barberry  berries  give  the  only  bit  of 
colour  to  the  beds,  although  the  red-birds  flash  their  scarlet  notes 
through  the  upper  foliage,  it  is  always  quiet  and  sheltered  under 
the  lea  of  the  walls,  even  when  the  most  biting  northwest  wind  is. 
blowing.  But,  take  it  all  in  all,  the  best  of  the  year  is  generally 
June,  because  the  roses  are  in  bloom  then  on  every  wall,  and  the 
colours  of  the  other  flowers — larkspurs,  pinks,  lilies,  with  humming- 
birds among  them — vie  with  each  other  against  backgrounds  of 
stone  or  brick,  ivy  or  box. 

There  are  winter  scenes,  too,  worth  remembering;  mornings 
after  a  sleet  storm,  with  the  sun  reflected  on  every  leaf  and  twig, 
every  blade  of  grass,  and  the  stillness  so  intense  that  it  seems  to 
speak,  and  to  bid  one  pause.  One  feels,  then,  as  if  the  world  must 
be  pausing,  too,  for  a  moment  in  its  mad  rush.  At  all  events,  some 
fragments  of  an  indefinable  peace  seem  to  have  been  caught  within 
its  walls,  by  this  old  garden.  Edith  EusTis. 

[249] 


MONTPELIER 

ONTPELIER,  in  Orange  County,  Virginia — such  a 
lovely  spot!  and  one  filled  with  memories  of  those 
picturesque  early  days  when  James  Madison,  our 
fourth  President,  sought  rest  and  relaxation  from 
his  strenuous  public  life.  There,  with  his  charm- 
ing and  gifted  wife,  he  dispensed  such  hospitality 
as  nowadays  seems  scarce  believable. 

Montpellier  (for  then  it  was  always  spelled  with  two  I's)  is 
charmingly  situated,  overlooking  a  broad  sweep  of  lawn — with 
fertile  fields  stretching  away  to  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains  in  the 
distance.  Although  most  of  the  famous  country  seats  in  Virginia 
were  in  Tidewater,  some  of  the  Colonists  felt  the  call  of  the  hills — 
or  was  it  the  greater  fertility  of  the  soil  that  lured  them  on?  Be 
that  as  it  may,  John  Madison,  the  first  of  the  name  in  Virginia, 
obtained  land  in  1653  in  Gloucester  County,  near  York.  River;  but 
his  grandson,  Ambrose  Madison,  in  1723,  along  with  Thomas 
Chew,  patented  four  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-five  acres  of 
land  in  what  was  then  Spotsylvania,  but,  in  1732,  became  Orange 
County. 

A  large  part  of  the  Chew-Madison  patent  was  inherited  by 
the  son  of  Ambrose,  James,  who,  by  purchase  at  different  times, 
acquired  the  whole  tract  which  has  come  down  in  history  as  Mont- 
pelier.  Here,  in  1756,  on  a  commanding  site,  James  Madison  built 
for  his  home  a  plain  rectangular  brick  edifice  of  four  rooms.  This 
was  enlarged  at  different  times  and  the  most  important  improve- 
ments were  made  by  his  son.  President  James  Madison,  in  1809. 
In  this  he  was  aided  by  his  friend,  Doctor  Thornton,  the  architect 
for  the  Capitol  in  Washington.  Latrobe  also  lent  assistance  in 
adding  the  wings. 

But  when  Montpelier,  the  home  of  the  Madisons,  is  mentioned 

[250] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


it  is  not  so  much  of  the  distinguished  stateman  that  we  think,  as 
of  his  lovable  lady — Dolly  Madison.  Time  has  not  dimmed  her 
charm.  Washington  Irving  speaks  of  her  "plump  beauty"  in  con- 
trast to  her  husband's  delicate  and  feeble  figure  and  wizened  face. 
Even  in  his  prime,  Madison  was  as  Henry  Adams  says,  "a  small 
man,  quiet,  somewhat  precise  in  manner,  pleasant,  fond  of  conversa- 
tion, with  a  certain  mixture  of  ease  and  dignity  in  his  address." 
But  Dolly  was  sprightly  and  lovable,  with  gifts  of  mind  and  char- 
acter and  a  vivid  personality  that  has  made  her  name  beloved 
through  all  these  many  years.  Strange,  is  it  not,  that  such  a 
beautiful  butterfly  should  have  burst  forth  en  seconde  twee  from 
the  drab  chrysalis  of  Quakerism?  That  Dorothea  Payne  Todd, 
of  Philadelphia,  should  have  become  the  first  lady  of  the  land 
and  the  most  brilliant  mistress  that  has  ever  held  sway  in  the  White 
House?  True,  she  was  originally  from  Virginia,  and  that  accounts 
for  many  wonders. 

Indeed,  Montpelier  was  a  suitable  setting  for  the  far-famed 
Virginia  hospitality  that  was  so  freely  dispensed  by  its  genial 
master  and  his  gracious  lady. 

In  a  letter  of  Mrs.  Madison,  in  1820,  she  says,  "Yesterday  we 
had  ninety  persons  to  dine  with  us  at  one  table  fixed  on  the  lawn 
under  a  large  arbor.  The  dinner  was  profuse  and  handsome  and 
the  company  very  orderly.  Many  of  your  acquaintances  were  here, 
among  others,  the  two  Barbours.  We  had  no  ladies  except  Mother 
Madison,  Mrs.  Mason,  and  Nellie  Willis.  The  day  was  cool  and 
pleasant.  Half  a  dozen  only  stayed  all  night  and  are  now  about 
to  depart.  President  Monroe's  letter  this  morning  announces  the 
French  Minister.  We  expect  him  this  evening  or  perhaps  sooner, 
though  he  may  not  come  until  tomorrow;  but  I  am  less  worried 
here  with  a  hundred  visitors  than  with  twenty-five  in  Washington." 
Great  indeed  was  the  social  talent  of  this  charming  chatelaine.  In 
the  words  of  one  of  her  contemporaries,  "She  never  forgot  a  name 
she  had  once  heard,  or  a  face  she  had  once  seen,  nor  the  personal 
circumstances  connected  with  every  individual  of  her  acquaintance. 

[251] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

Her  quick  recognition  of  persons,  her  recurrence  to  their  peculiar  in- 
terests produced  the  gratifying  impression  in  each  and  all  of  those 
who  conversed  with  her  that  they  were  especial  objects  of  regard." 
What  charm!     What  tact! 

President  Madison  must  have  equaled,  if  not  excelled,  his  good 
wife  in  tact,  for  did  he  not  have  two  separate  establishments  under 
the  same  roof;  with  everything  that  might  rupture  the  harmony 
of  the  household — separate  and  apart?  One  side  of  the  house  was 
occupied  by  Mrs.  James  Madison,  Senior;  and  there,  attended  by 
her  old  family  servants,  constantly  visited  by  her  children  and 
grandchildren,  the  venerable  dame  preserved  the  customs  and 
habits  of  an  earlier  generation.  In  the  basement  were  two  kitchens, 
one  for  "Mother  Madison,"  the  other  for  Madame  Dolly.  There 
were  separate  living  apartments,  and  separate  stairs  led  to  the  bed 
chambers.  Indeed,  our  President  Madison  solved  the  problem  that 
has  caused  so  much  havoc  in  otherwise  happy  homes. 

The  central  part  of  the  old  house  and  the  arrangement  of  the 
two  stairways  are  just  as  they  were  in  the  "good  old  days."  Nor 
has  the  library  been  changed,  where  the  ex-president  received  when 
so  feeble  that  he  had  to  recline  on  a  couch,  which  caused  him  to 
remark  merrily,  "Strange  as  it  may  appear,  I  always  talk  better 
when  I  lie."  But  the  wings  of  the  house  have  been  rebuilt  and 
broadened,  so  that  the  house  now  is  many  times  larger  than  it  was 
originally.  The  Tuscan  portico,  flanked  by  huge  box-trees,  the  old 
cream  stucco  and  the  general  spacious  atmosphere  of  hospitality  is 
there  just  as  it  has  been  for  these  hundred  and  more  years. 

We  must  go  through  the  house,  across  the  beautiful  turf  with 
peacocks  strutting  under  century-old  trees;  under  a  cedar  of 
Lebanon  (which  President  Madison  planted  himself)  to  the  brick- 
walled  garden  with  lovely  wrought  iron  gates,  which  give  an  added 
feeling  of  seclusion  to  the  peaceful  spot.  Here  one  enters  under 
a  tunnel  of  box-trees;  at  the  end  of  this  the  garden  itself  is  spread 
out  in  all  its  glory.  Certainly  one  feels  the  French  influence,  and 
rightly,  I  believe,   for  in   1824  when  the  Marquis  of  LaFayette 

[252] 


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The     Piedmont     Section 


visited  ex-President  Madison,  one  of  his  suite  laid  out  the  garden 
to  please  the  charming  Madame  Dolly.  Tradition  has  it  that  this 
gentleman  was  Major  L'Enfant,  but  this  is  extremely  doubtful. 
The  young  Frenchman  took  as  his  plan  the  hall  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  in  Washington,  and  this  amphitheater  design  af- 
fords wonderful  opportunities  for  terraces  and  steps.  When 
emerging  from  the  shadow  of  the  overhanging  box-trees,  the  vivid 
panorama  of  the  garden  is  one  never  to  be  forgotten. 

For  many  years  a  French  gardener  (at  the  then  fabulous  price 
of  $400  a  year)  tended  the  elaborate  parterres  and  clipped  the 
hedges  and  made  wonderful  topiary  designs  in  the  box-bushes. 
But,  alas,  the  lavish  hospitality,  the  dissipations  of  the  graceless 
stepson,  and  the  too  great  generosity  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Madison 
caused  considerable  financial  stress,  and  the  French  gardener  had 
to  be  dismissed  and  his  place  filled  by  one  of  his  black  assistants. 
This  was  but  the  beginning  of  pecuniary  embarrassments  which 
harassed  the  last  years  of  Madison's  life. 

When,  in  1900,  Mr.  William  duPont  took  over  this  historical 
estate,  the  garden  was  surrounded  by  a  rail  snake  fence.  The  ter- 
races had  been  ploughed  down  and  were  planted  in  vegetables,  and 
only  the  wonderful  box,  extending  down  the  center  of  the  garden, 
remained;  the  latter  so  straggly  and  overgrown  that  one  could 
hardly  walk  down  the  path.  Mrs.  duPont  had  the  terraces  graded 
and  turfed,  the  flower  beds  laid  out  and  planted.  She  had  the 
paths  made  of  gravel  with  tiled  edging.  Under  her  direction  steps 
were  built  and  garden  ornaments  added,  but  it  has  taken  years  of 
patience  and  toil  to  bring  the  garden  back  to  its  present  state  of 
perfection. 

I  like  to  pass  swiftly  over  the  years  of  neglect  and  think  of  the 
garden  in  all  its  old-time  glory — as  it  is  now  in  June  with  roses 
everywhere.  Ramblers  drooping  over  the  walls,  tree-roses  standing 
about  in  prim  precision  in  gay  beds  of  larkspur  and  lady  slippers 
and  brilliant  phlox  and  the  white  marguerite,  without  which  no 
French  garden  is  complete. 


[253] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

Then  there  are  rose-beds — nothing  but  roses — on  either  side  of 
the  box  tunnel  at  the  upper  end  of  the  garden.  In  the  center  of 
each  group  of  beds  is  a  carved  Italian  column,  and,  too,  there  are 
eight  large  marble  vases  sentineling  the  upper  tier  of  terraces  and 
adding  dignity  to  the  whole.  One  goes  down  into  the  garden  be- 
tween walls  of  box  and  with  parterres  of  flowers  circling  around 
on  either  side;  past  a  sun-dial,  on  one  of  the  landings;  until,  at  the 
very  end,  the  speaker's  desk  is  represented  by  a  lovely  marble  stand 
filled  with  gay,  growing  flowers. 

The  unusual  layout  of  the  Montpelier  garden,  the  evergreens, 
the  garden  ornaments,  and  the  beauty  of  the  surrounding  hills 
make  it  a  place  to  rejoice  in  at  all  seasons  and  at  all  hours. 
With  the  snow  everywhere,  it  is  indeed  as  lovely  as  when  the 
blossoms  are  most  luxuriant. 

HiLDRETH  Dunn  Scott. 


[254] 


WOODBERRY   FOREST 


HE  estate  of  Woodberry  Forest,  the  home  of 
General  Wilham  Madison,  brother  of  the  Presi- 
dent, is  situated  along  the  Rapidan  River,  at  the 
lower  end  of  Madison  County.  The  exact  date 
of  the  erection  of  the  dweUing  Is  uncertain,  but  it 
is  known  to  have  been  in  existence  in  1785,  prior 
to  the  separation  of  what  is  now  Madison  from  Culpeper  County, 
in  1792.  The  house  is  one  of  the  many  homes  the  planning  of 
which  Is  authentically  attributed  to  Jefferson.  The  plan  of  the 
building,  drawn  by  Jefferson,  Is  still  In  existence.  But  the  ac- 
cepted family  tradition  was  to  the  effect  that  while  Jefferson  made 
the  sketch  for  the  plans,  three  Presidents  had  a  hand  in  the  de- 
signing— Jefferson,  Madison,  and  Monroe.  It  was  built  for  Gen- 
eral Madison  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage,  and  remained  in 
the  possession  of  his  family  till  the  close  of  the  War  Between  the 
States.  For  several  generations  Woodberry  Forest  was  the  center 
of  the  social  life  of  the  community,  drawing  to  its  hospitable  doors 
many  whose  names  were  familiar  in  the  early  traditions  of  Virginia. 
During  the  War  Between  the  States  it  was  occupied  at  times 
by  the  Confederate,  and  again  by  the  Union  Armies,  and  was  the 
scene  of  lively  skirmishing,  as  the  various  fords  on  the  Rapidan 
River,  lying  just  below  the  house,  were  strongly  defended  by  the 
Southern  forces.  This  was  especially  true  during  the  winter  of 
1 863-1 864,  when  Lee's  Army  was  encamped  between  Orange  and 
the  Wilderness,  and  the  Northern  troops  were  making  every  effort 
to  reach  Richmond. 

The  house  and  place  suffered,  as  needs  must,  from  their  con- 
tinued occupation  by  military  forces;  outbuildings  were  destroyed, 
shots  penetrated  even  into  the  house;  the  furniture  was  broken  and 

[255] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

much  carried  away,  while  the  garden  was  completely  torn  up  and 
laid  waste.  Evidences  of  war's  devastation  are  still  visible — bullet 
holes  in  a  mantelpiece  and  in  some  of  the  heavy  timbered  doors — 
the  remains  of  the  old  brick  walks  leading  to  the  outside  kitchen, 
which  was  totally  destroyed,  and  pieces  of  mutilated  furniture. 
A  fine  old  Sheraton  sideboard  was  found,  after  the  estate  was  sold, 
lying  out  under  some  trees,  with  its  drawers,  which  had  been  used 
as  horse  troughs,  lost  or  broken. 

Woodberry  Forest  lay  idle  for  some  years  after  this,  and  it 
was  not  till  1870  that  it  was  given  to  Captain  Robert  Stringfellow 
Walker  by  his  father,  who  had  bought  it  when  it  was  offered  for 
sale  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

The  house  is  beautifully  situated  on  a  hill,  to  the  right  of  which 
the  valley  stretches  out  into  the  foothills  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Moun- 
tains, with  the  mountains  themselves  only  about  fifteen  miles  dis- 
tant. On  its  left,  the  steep  slope  is  terraced  to  the  Rapidan 
River,  which  at  this  point  half  encircles  the  place.  The  opposite 
hill,  with  its  wooded  sides  and,  now  and  then,  cleared  fields,  forms 
a  lovely  setting  to  the  southern  frontage  of  the  garden. 

The  site  of  the  old  garden  was  the  same  occupied  by  the 
present  one,  though  the  latter  has  far  outgrown  the  original.  The 
hill,  stretching  from  the  residence  to  the  Rapidan  River,  is  com- 
pletely taken  up  with  the  ten-acre  vegetable  garden,  and  the  slice 
at  the  top  devoted  to  flowers.  The  old  flower  garden  was  a  simple 
one,  typical  of  so  many  Virginia  country  homes — several  long 
borders,  as  they  were  called,  stretching  the  whole  width  of  the 
garden  enclosure,  and  lying  at  the  top  of  the  slope  which  extends 
to  the  river.  It  is  entered  by  a  wicket  gate,  and  half  way  between 
that  and  the  vegetables  was  the  sun-dial,  the  beloved  object  of  the 
children,  whose  never-failing  source  of  delight  was  that  Grand- 
father's Clock  and  the  sun-dial  both  told  the  same  kind  of  time! 
A  group  of  old  purple  lilacs,  cut  down  during  the  war,  bordered 
the  walk,  and  the  beds  of  roses  were  noted  through  the  com- 
munity— Harrison's  Yellow,  Cabbage,  Lorraine,  Damask,  Musk, 

[256] 


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The     Piedmont     Section 

and  Chinquapin  roses  gave  an  individual  charm  remembered  even 
today  by  those  whose  childhood  was  passed  in  the  old  house. 

The  devastation  of  the  war  period,  with  the  succeeding  years 
of  neglect,  had  done  much  to  destroy  the  substance  of  the  garden, 
but  when  the  present  owners  took  possession  in  1870,  there  were 
still  traces  of  the  old  planting,  and  a  few  surviving  perennials  gave 
the  main  details  of  the  former  garden.  The  vegetable  squares 
lay  in  terraces  below  the  flower  borders;  fruit  trees,  fig  bushes,  and 
some  flowers,  were  planted  about  their  edges.  Shrubs,  lilacs, 
trumpet  creepers,  grapevines,  honeysuckles,  yuccas,  and  narcissi, 
whose  age  is  unknown  to  persons  living,  still  live  and  flourish, 
though  they  have  been  divided  and  moved  to  make  place  for  the 
changing  of  the  flower  borders  and  the  development  of  the  present 
terraced  vegetable  garden. 

The  chief  beauty  and  pride  of  the  whole  place  are  the  dozen  or 
more  trees  surrounding  the  house — ^oaks,  gums,  and  hickories — all 
relics  of  the  primeval  forest.  The  oaks  are  estimated  at  between 
four  and  five  hundred  years  in  age,  and  some  have  a  spread  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty-nine  feet;  their  limbs  hang  high  about  the  long, 
low  one-storied  house,  with  its  quaint  roof,  nestled  below  the  great 
branches.  So  tall  are  the  trees,  that  the  fine  lawn  of  old  bluegrass 
flourishes  like  a  green  carpet,  and  the  whole  setting  presents  a  pic- 
ture, glowing  in  color,  and  restful  in  its  quiet,  simple  charm.  It  has 
been  said  that  the  designers  of  the  house  were  better  Presidents  than 
architects — it  may  be  so — but  surely  their  sense  of  fitness  and  beauty 
was  keenly  developed  when  they  chose  the  site  for  WiUiam  Madi- 
son's home,  and  placed  the  type  of  house  it  demanded  within  such 
fitting  environment, 

Violet  Niles  Walker. 


[257] 


BARBOURSVILLE 

ARBOURSVILLE,  in  Orange  County,  once  held 
the  honor  of  being  the  loveliest  home  in  the  foot- 
hills of  Virginia.  It  was  built  by  Governor  James 
Barbour,  about  1815,  and  was  much  like  Frascati, 
the  home  of  his  brother,  Philip  Pendleton  Barbour. 
Both  of  these  houses  were  designed  by  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson, who  was  generous  with  his  talents  in  building  houses  while 
building  a  great  republic,  and  left  a  conspicuous  monument  to  him- 
self in  the  home  of  his  friend,  James  Barbour.  There  were  the 
characteristic  red-brick  and  white  Doric  columns,  but  never  have 
they  been  assembled  with  more  beauty  nor  in  more  dignified 
proportion. 

To  the  mistress  of  Barboursville  we  give  all  the  credit  for  the 
garden,  although  its  surrounding  serpentine  wall,  like  that  at  the 
University  of  Virginia,  suggests  again  the  helping  hand  of  Mr. 
Jefferson.  There  must  have  been  hundreds — perhaps  thousands — 
of  box  plants  set  out  at  that  time,  for  today  you  may  see  a  veritable 
forest  of  box  trees  both  inside  and  outside  the  garden.  Double 
av^enues  of  box  lead  off  to  where  the  stables  used  to  be,  and  the 
front  lawn  is  entirely  surrounded,  except  for  an  open  vista  just  in 
front  of  the  house  through  which  the  eye  is  lured  to  the  long, 
green  field  and  the  meadow  beyond.  Here  was  the  location  of 
the  "Riding  Greens";  and  one  can,  in  imagination,  complete  the 
picture  with  red-coated  riders  on  prancing  horses  following  the 
hounds  into  the  distance. 

The  original  garden  covered  nearly  three  acres,  and  was  entirely 
surrounded  by  the  serpentine  wall  of  red  brick.  Old  records  show 
that  these  bricks  were  brought  in  ox-carts  from  Fredericksburg. 
Truly  we  have  not  inherited  the  patience  of  our  ancestors,  for  we 
try  to  build  a  garden  in  a  day. 

[258] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


The  design  of  this  old  garden  is  in  formal  squares,  which  are 
separated  from  each  other  by  wide  grass-covered  walks.  Each 
square  is  deeply  bordered  with  flowers  and  the  Inside  filled  with 
small  vegetables.  A  bold  stream,  along  whose  banks  were  natural- 
ized daffodils,  narcissi,  and  forget-me-nots,  runs  through  the 
garden;  and,  at  intervals,  this  was  spanned  by  three  rustic  bridges. 

In  the  borders  were  all  kinds  of  old-fashioned  flowers  of  that 
day,  and  Its  many  varieties  of  peonies  were  known  far  and  wide. 
The  serpentine  wall  was  covered  with  English  Ivy,  and  In  Its  curves 
were  violets  and  lilies  of  the  valley.  There  was  a  huge  cherry  tree 
in  the  center  of  the  garden  from  which  radiated  the  rose  arbors. 
There  were  avenues  of  lilac  and  other  shrubs,  with  blossom  or 
decorative  berry  for  each  month  of  the  year,  as  well  as  sunny 
corners  of  sweet  herbs,  as  essential  to  the  excellence  of  old  gardens 
as  old  cooks. 

With  Thomas  Jefferson,  James  Madison,  and  other  distin- 
guished neighbors,  the  garden  at  Barboursvllle  was  not  infre- 
quently the  scene  of  merriment;  nor  did  they  need  the  local  moon- 
shine to  give  snap  and  sparkle  to  these  occasions,  for  the  cellars 
near  by  were  amply  stocked  with  imported  liquors,  and  mint  flour- 
ished in  every  nook  and  cranny,  so  no  guest  ever  left  Barboursvllle 
without  at  least  one  sip  of  the  favorite  beverage  of  old  Virginians. 

One  of  the  distinctive  features  of  the  house  is  the  wide  grass 
ramp  leading  up  to  the  high  front  porch.  The  house  was  burned 
on  Christmas  Day,  1884.  The  interior  Is  gone,  but  the  vine-clad 
walls  and  tall  white  columns,  draped  in  volunteer  grape  and 
ampelopsis,  are  still  standing  in  their  picturesque  ruins. 

A  large  walnut  tree  has  grown  up  through  the  house  and  has 
sympathetically  spread  Its  branches  In  place  of  a  roof.  A  long,  low 
wing  at  the  right  of  the  house  is  all  that  Is  left  of  the  grand  old 
mansion;  but  this  serves  as  a  charming  retreat  for  a  descendant, 
Governor  Barbour's  granddaughter,  who  lives  there  in  the  shadow 
of  past  glory  and  who  cordially  extends  the  old-time  welcome. 

Caroline  Coleman  Duke. 

[259] 


HORSESHOE 

HE  county  of  Culpeper,  which  was  carved  out  of 
Orange  in  1748,  found  its  way  first  into  the  pages 
of  history  through  its  gallant  Revolutionary  sol- 
diers of  whom  John  Randolph  said,  "They  were 
raised  in  a  minute,  armed  in  a  minute,  marched  in 
a  minute,  fought  in  a  minute  and  vanquished  in  a 
minute."  Upon  their  picturesque  green  hunting  shirts  the  motto, 
"Liberty  or  Death"  was  so  conspicuous  that  a  would-be  recruit 
begged  that  it  be  modified  to  "Liberty  or  be  Crippled." 

Since  the  time  of  these  brave  Minute  Men,  Culpeper  has  held 
its  place  in  the  annals  of  the  country  through  the  bravery  of  its 
people  and  the  beauty  and  charm  of  its  homes,  some  of  which  ante- 
date the  Republic.  Among  the  latter,  the  lands  granted  by  the 
English  Crown  to  Governor  Alexander  Spotswood  naturally  come 
first. 

In  William  Byrd's  "Progress  to  the  Mines,"  after  a  description 
of  the  Spotswood  family  and  Germanna,  he  wrote  under  date  of 
September,  1732,  "In  the  afternoon  we  walkt  in  a  Meadow  by  the 
River  side,  which  winds  in  the  form  of  a  Horseshoe  about 
Germanna,  making  it  a  peninsula,  containing  about  400  acres." 
As  the  present  estate  of  Horseshoe  contains  approximately  that 
number  of  acres  we  must  conclude  that  this  very  property  was 
once  the  home  of  the  colonial  governor. 

History  tells  us  that  John,  the  son  of  Alexander  Spotswood,  lost 
by  debt,  his  inheritance  of  four  hundred  and  sixty  acres,  "known 
as  the  Horseshoe  tract,"  and  that  on  April  15,  1767,  the  place 
was  purchased  by  James  Pollard.  Still  later  it  became  the  property 
of  the  Reverend  John  Thompson,  who  married  the  widow  of  Gov- 
ernor Spotswood. 

John  Thompson  was  a  conspicuous  figure  in  Virginia  church 

[260] 


REABRANGEMENT  OF 

PEUENNIAL  GARDEN 

HORSE  SHOE  FARM 

ESTATE-     OF- 

R.M. BRADY  ESQ. 
CAPJDAN.VA. 


The     Piedmont     Section 

history  and  though  in  wooing  the  Lady  Spotswood  he  met  vigorous 
opposition  from  her  children,  the  following  bit  of  a  letter  proves 
that  his  cause  was  plead  well: 

"Madam:  By  diligently  perusing  your  letter,  I  see  that  there  is 
a  material  argument,  which  I  ought  to  have  answered,  upon  which 
your  strongest  objections  to  completing  my  happiness  seems  to 
depend,  viz.:  That  you  would  incur  ye  censures  of  ye  world  for 
marrying  a  person  of  my  station;  by  which  I  understand  that  you 
think  it  a  diminution  of  your  honour  and  ye  dignity  of  your  family 
to  marry  a  person  in  the  state  of  a  clergyman.  Now,  if  I  can  make 
it  appear  that  the  ministerial  office  is  an  employment  in  its  nature 
ye  most  honourable,  and  in  its  effects  ye  most  beneficial  to  mankind, 
I  hope  your  objections  will  immediately  vanish,  you  will  keep  me 
no  longer  in  suspense  and  misery,  but  consummate  my  happiness." 

That  the  gentleman  of  the  cloth  won  his  suit,  history  well 
knows  and  though  he  was  the  master  of  Horseshoe  but  a  short 
while,  his  name  and  that  of  his  Lady  will  always  add  lustre  to 
the  old  place.  From  the  Thompsons  the  estate  went  to  William 
Morton  from  whom  it  passed  to  Charles  P.  Moncure,  who,  in 
1859,  built  the  splendid  house  that  is  much  admired  today. 

Overlooking  a  bend  of  the  Rapidan  River,  the  form  of  which 
gave  the  estate  its  name,  the  white  columned  house  stands  upon  a 
slight  rise  of  ground.  An  avenue  of  over-arching  trees  leads  up 
to  it  from  the  high  road,  and  immediately  around  it,  on  all  sides  of 
the  lawn,  venerable  shade  trees  spread  their  branches. 

A  wide  porch  upheld  by  lofty  columns,  proves  the  southern  front 
of  the  house,  the  walls  of  which  are  of  brick  washed  with  buff 
cement.  The  interior  presents  an  effect  of  spaciousness.  A  wide 
entrance  hall  opens  into  a  stair  hall  which  runs  at  right  angles 
across  it  and  separates  the  two  rear  from  the  two  front  rooms. 
Where  these  halls  join  are  pilasters  which  seem  to  permit  the  use 
of  a  paneled  wainscot  around  the  walls.  To  the  right  of  the 
entrance  door  is  the  office;  to  the  left,  the  morning  room.    Passing 

[261] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

through  the  stair  hall  one  finds  a  graceful  spiral  stairway  which 
ascends  upon  the  right  to  the  upper  floor. 

The  house  possesses  at  least  one  unique — and  strictly  Southern — 
feature.  Upon  the  second  floor,  each  room  has  large  slat  doors 
used  both  for  ventilation  and  as  screens.  It  is  significant  of  both 
the  material  and  design  of  this  dwelling  that  it  has  never  been 
remodeled.  Modern  luxuries  have  been  permitted  to  keep  pace 
with  the  times,  and  certain  innovations  have  been  allowed.  Up  to 
the  present,  however,  none  of  its  owners  has  been  willing  to  sacrifice 
one  line  of  the  original  structure  for  a  more  modern  idea. 

In  olden  days,  the  inconspicuous  service  door  at  one  end  of  the 
hall  gave  access  to  the  out-door  kitchen.  It  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  in  colonial  as  well  as  ante-bellum  times,  the  great  families 
lived  in  the  manner  of  their  English  ancestors.  Their  houses  were 
not  planned  to  permit  the  quick  passage  of  food  from  kitchen  to 
dining-room.  Today,  a  modern  kitchen  stands  as  an  addition  at 
Horseshoe,  though  the  old  one  still  remains  as  an  interesting  and 
historic  landmark. 

A  quaint  little  side  entrance  opens  out  of  the  stair  hall  on  one 
side  of  the  house,  and  it  is  through  this  that  the  visitor  is  led  to 
make  a  tour  of  the  garden  which  lies  in  the  rear.  Here,  after 
leaving  many  roses,  one  sees  long,  prim  borders  stretching,  perhaps 
a  hundred  feet,  to  reach  a  stone  bench  nestling  among  white  and 
purple  lilacs.  Again,  we  are  reminded  of  William  Byrd,  for  we 
wonder  if  the  present  bench  stands  in  the  self-same  spot  as  that 
where,  this  Genial  Seigneur  tells  us,  "Miss  Thecky,"  Lady  Spots- 
wood's  sister,  "sat  and  bewail'd  her  virginity." 

This  garden,  a  survival,  is  said  to  have  had  Its  beginning  in 
1815,  and  is  intersected  by  wide  turfed  walks  between  borders  of 
flowers  and  shrubbery.  Any  search  for  box  gardens  would  not  be 
complete  without  a  visit  to  Horseshoe,  where  the  garden  plan  fol- 
lows the  line  of  the  estate  and  both  explain  the  place  name.  A 
grassy  pleasaunce,  studded  at  intervals  by  six-foot  trees  of  semper- 
virens  boxwood,  forms  its  controlling  note.     While  not  so  tall  as 

[262] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


much  that  may  be  found,  this  box,  thanks  to  good  care  and  con- 
stant clipping,  is  particularly  broad  of  girth,  the  polished  leaves 
being  as  thick  upon  the  inner  as  on  the  outer  side.  And  though  the 
garden  has  been  rearranged  by  the  present  owners,  under  the 
guidance  of  Charles  F.  Gillett,  its  old  lines  have  in  no  way  been 
destroyed,  the  new  ones  only  serving  to  enhance  the  charm  of  many 
years  ago. 

The  latter-day  flowers  blooming  here  lend  the  accent  of  com- 
parison to  their  old-fashioned  sisters  which  grow  in  greater  profu- 
sion. And  the  garden  calendars  the  seasons  as  they  come  and  go. 
Tall  hollyhocks  and  riotous  sweet  peas  glorify  the  garden  in  June, 
while  masses  of  lily  of  the  valley  and  violets  bloom  in  a  sheltered 
corner  before  the  May  flowers  come.  All  the  flowers,  every  shrub, 
each  tree  is  planted  in  accord  with  the  dominate  feature  of  the 
garden — the  stately  boxwood  lifting  its  head  along  the  center  length. 

Screened  by  a  fragile  wall  of  clematis  and  morning  glories,  the 
orchard  adjoins  the  flowers.  Near  here  grow  many  varieties  of 
small  fruits  and  old-fashioned  herbs.  Down  toward  the  branch 
of  the  river  which  waters  the  estate  lies  a  fairy  forest  where 
trumpet  vine  runs  riot  among  the  trees;  where  hawthorn  has  its 
day  in  June  and  Jack-in-the-pulpit  nods  his  sprightly  head  among 
a  phalanx  of  splendid  ferns.  A  tiny  hill  which  slopes  into  the 
stream  has  in  its  season  a  carpet  of  frail  wood  lilies,  while  among 
the  birch  and  maple  trees  the  pink  moccasin  flower  blooms  in  bold 
rivalry  to  its  sister  orchid. 

When  the  Federal  troops  marched  through  Orange  and  Cul- 
peper  when  the  Civil  strife  was  aflame.  Pope's  army  brought 
desolation  to  fair  old  Horseshoe.  Soldiers  rifled  the  barns  and 
stables;  they  destroyed  waving  grain  fields  and  burned  outbuild- 
ings. But  it  was  when  they  entered  the  house  by  battering  down 
doors  that  they  wrought  their  greatest  injury.  Maples  and  the 
long  avenue  of  other  trees  beneath  which  we  stroll  today  were 
leafless  when  news  was  hurriedly  brought  to  Horseshoe  that  a  body 
of  Pope's  soldiers  was  marching  towards  the  place.     Silver  was 


[263] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

burled  in  the  earth,  papers  and  other  portable  valuables  were 
huddled  into  portmanteaux  and  the  horses  and  roomy  chariot  were 
ordered  out  for  instant  flight. 

But  happily,  Horseshoe  has  known  few  vicissitudes  with  the 
exception  of  the  war-time  raid  and  those  occasioned  by  the  ruthless 
hand  of  time.  It  is  now  in  splendid  condition,  having  been  restored 
and  beautified  by  its  present  owner,  Richard  Meldrum  Brady,  Jr., 
who,  in  19 1 2,  purchased  the  place  from  Colonel  Joseph  Wilmer. 

The  old  estate  is  a  link  between  the  present  and  those  far-off 
days  of  1716  when  Governor  Spotswood  led  his  Horseshoe  Knights 
to  drink  the  King's  health  upon  the  mountain  top.  The  neighbor- 
hood has  greatly  changed  since  it  was  the  Royal  Governor's  grant. 
The  junketings  and  progresses  between  Germanna  and  Williams- 
burg belong  to  an  irrevocable  past.  But  the  daily  routine  at  Horse- 
shoe still  has  in  it  today  much  that  reminds  one  of  the  country  life 
once  led  here  by  the  gentry  of  colonial  days. 

Edith  Dabney  Tunis  Sale. 


[264] 


Tree    Box    at    Castle    Hill 


CASTLE    HILL 

N  beautiful  Albemarle  County,  at  the  foot  of  Peter's 
Mountain,  the  Monarch  of  the  Southwest  Range 
and  called  by  President  Madison  "The  Chimborazo 
of  our  Andes,"  lies  one  of  the  famous  old  estates 
of  Colonial  days. 

Castle  Hill,  standing  among  the  lovely  Vir- 
ginia fields  which  slope  gently  away  in  all  directions,  is  one  of 
the  best  known  homes  of  this  historial  part  of  Virginia. 

It  was  here  in  June,  178 1,  that  Jack  Jouett  was  given  food, 
drink,  and  a  fresh  horse  when  he  made  his  famous  ride  from 
Cuckoo  tavern  in  Louisa  County  to  warn  the  then  governor  of 
Virginia,  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  the  members  of  the  Assembly  in 
session  at  Charlottesville  of  their  danger  from  the  proximity  of 
the  British  forces  under  Lieutenant-Colonel  Tarleton.  A  few  days 
afterward  this  energetic  leader  at  the  head  of  his  notorious 
raiders,  was  welcomed  by  the  lady  of  Castle  Hill,  who  proved  such 
a  charming  hostess  that  his  stop  on  the  march  was  prolonged  into 
a  social  visit. 

Amid  such  diverting  environment,  the  soldier  made  the  never- 
to-be-forgotten  acquaintance  of  the  genuine  Virginia  mint  julep 
served  in  a  silver  tankard  whose  polished  surface  was  filmed  with 
frost.  Green  sprays  of  fragrant  mint  were  fastened  in  by  sparkling 
particles  of  crushed  ice  and  luscious  ripe  red  strawberries  combined 
with  the  flavor  of  the  eau  de  vie  to  produce  that  subtle  and  alluring 
taste,  delighted  vision,  and  entrancing  odor  which  made  it  easy  for 
the  rigorous  Briton  to  temporarily  forget  the  stern  demands  of 
war. 

He  saw — tasted — and  was  conquered.  One  julep  followed 
another  until,  when,  some  hours  later,  he  finally  reached  Charlottes- 
ville, his  quarry  had  flown.    The  wood  near  the  dwelling  at  Castle 

[265] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

Hill  is  still  called  "Tarleton's  Wood,"  for  it  was  here  that  his 
men  encamped  while  waiting  for  their  leader. 

How  long  the  old  garden  at  Castle  Hill  has.  been  in  existence 
it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  but  probably  somewhere  between  the 
granting  of  the  land  in  1727  and  the  completion  of  the  present 
house  in  1765.  It  has  no  intricate  plan,  no  winding  walks.  It  is 
simply  a  great  square,  bounded  on  the  north  side  by  a  high  brick 
wall  against  which  stand  fig  bushes,  and  enclosed  on  the  other  three 
sides  by  a  Colonial  arrowhead  picket-fence.  The  garden  lies  in 
four  deep  terraces. 

At  the  top  stands  one  of  the  great  box-hedges,  for  which  Castle 
Hill  is  famous.  The  highest  terrace,  where  one  enters  the  garden 
through  an  arch  in  the  hedge,  and  down  a  flight  of  old  brick  steps 
sunk  deep  in  the  bank,  is  devoted  entirely  to  flowers.  There  are 
the  old  garden  shrubs  and  flowers,  some  so  old  that  their  names 
are  now  almost  forgotten.  The  borders  are  a  tangle  of  lovely 
color,  and  the  air  is  filled  with  a  penetrating  sweetness  that  goes 
to  one's  head  like  wine. 

Leaving  the  upper  terrace  by  more  old  steps,  deep  set  in  the 
terrace  side,  a  broad  turf  walk  leads  down  to  the  second  and 
down  more  steps  to  the  third  level,  and  so  to  the  lowest  ter- 
race of  all.  The  great  square  beds  on  each  side  of  the  walk  are 
bordered  by  fruit  trees,  and  grass  paths  lead  everywhere  around 
the  terraces.  Beginning  on  the  second  level,  a  grape  arbor  stretches 
over  the  broad  turf  walk,  and  as  one  passes  down  from  terrace  to 
terrace,  one  sees  the  orderly  rows  of  vegetables  stretching  away 
on  either  side,  for  the  Castle  Hill  garden  is  not  only  beautiful  and 
full  of  old  world  charm,  but  it  is  noted  throughout  the  countryside 
as  the  best  vegetable  garden. 

No  changes  have  been  made  since  it  was  first  laid  out  by 
Dr.  Thomas  Walker,  of  Indian  fame.  In  Colonial  days,  he  was 
Major  and  Quartermaster-General  of  the  Colonial  forces  in  Vir- 
ginia, Member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and  the  Committee 
of  Safety.    In  this  garden  have  walked  many  famous  men — Wash- 

[266] 


The     Piedmont     Section 

ington,  Jefferson,   Madison,   Monroe,   and  even  LaFayette,   who 
was  a  visitor  at  Castle  Hill  when  he  was  last  in  America. 

From  her  grandfather.  Dr.  Thomas  Walker,  Judith  Walker 
inherited  Castle  Hill.  She  later  became  the  wife  of  William  Cabell 
Rives,  United  States  Senator,  and  twice  Minister  to  France.  Addi- 
tions were  made  to  the  old  house  during  her  life,  and  the  present 
lawn  was  laid  out  under  her  direction.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that 
the  father  of  Judith  Walker,  the  eldest  son  of  Dr.  Thomas  Walker, 
was  not  only  a  Colonel  and  Aide-de-Camp  on  the  Staff  of  General 
Washington,  but  he  was  a  United  States  Senator  as  well;  so  not 
only  was  she  the  daughter  of  a  Senator  of  the  United  States,  but 
her  husband  held  also  the  same  high  office. 

Dr.  Thomas  Walker,  who  married  Mildred  Thornton,  a 
cousin  of  General  Washington,  completed  at  Castle  Hill,  in  1765, 
the  house  which  stands  today  in  excellent  preservation.  It  is  one 
of  the  few  homes  still  standing  on  the  soil  of  Virginia  that  is 
older  than  the  beginning  of  the  War  of  Independence.  This 
house  is  still  the  home  of  the  descendants  of  its  first  owner,  who 
do  honor  to  their  lineage.  For  five  generations,  it  has  been  a 
seat  of  hospitality  and  culture.  In  the  great  square  hall,  the 
youthful,  music-loving  Jefferson  once  played  the  violin,  while  the 
still  younger  Madison  danced.  Here  the  doors  have  opened  to 
welcome  five  men  v/ho  were  Presidents  of  the  United  States. 

The  wonderful  box-hedges,  the  tallest  of  them  all  now  almost 
fifty  feet  in  height  with  its  broad  arches,  through  which  one  catches 
glimpses  of  the  garden  and  the  mountains  standing  guard  beyond, 
tell  the  story  of  the  eventful  years  that  have  passed  since  the  build- 
ing of  Castle  Hill  and  the  planting  of  its  garden. 

Gertrude  Rives  Potts. 


[267] 


REDLANDS 

EDLANDS,  belonging  to  the  Misses  Polly  Coles 
and  Sally  Randolph  Carter,  is  situated  in  Albe- 
marle County  on  a  high  hill  at  the  southern  end 
of  a  range  of  mountains  known  as  Carter's  Moun- 
tains; on  the  northern  end  of  this  little  range  of 
hills  lies  Monticello,  the  home  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 
It  is  rather  interesting  that  there  are  marked  similarities  between 
the  interior  plans  of  these  two  houses,  a  fact  to  be  accounted  for 
by  the  intimate  friendship  which  connected  the  original  owners  and 
their  families. 

Redlands,  on  its  high  hill,  overlooks  a  fair  and  smiling  country 
which  stretches  on  one  side  to  the  ever  beautiful  and  poetic  curves  of 
the  Blue  Ridge,  and  spreads  on  the  front  to  the  far  extended,  rolling, 
wooded  plateau,  which  for  thirty  miles  or  more  stretches  Its  length 
through  Albemarle  and  Fluvanna  counties.  It  overlooks  the  "Big 
Woods,"  home  of  the  partridges  and  wild  turkeys,  and,  with  its 
far  extended  sweep  and  beauty,  seems  to  challenge  the  imagination 
of  all  who  see  it  through  the  blue,  sunlit,  misty  veil  peculiar  to 
these  foothills. 

The  house  was  built  in  1789  by  Robert  Carter,  son  of  Edward 
Carter,  of  Blenheim,  the  younger  brother  of  Charles  Carter,  of 
Shirley,  and  grandson  of  Robert  Carter,  of  Corotoman,  who  was 
known  as  "King  Carter."  Robert  Carter  inherited  the  southern 
portion  of  his  father's  large  landed  estate  In  Albemarle  County, 
and  on  his  marriage  to  Miss  Mary  Eliza  Coles  (known  to  her 
family  and  friends  as  Polly),  of  Enniscorthy,  he  began  the  erection 
of  the  dwelling.  Together  they  laid  out  the  lawn  and  garden 
and  the  latter  still  retains  the  original  plan  on  which  it  was  designed 
in  1798. 

Like  many  Virginia  and  English  gardens,  that  at  Redlands  was 
a  combination  of  vegetable  and  flower  garden;  It  was  and  is  laid 

[268] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


off  in  squares,  separated  by  broad,  intersecting  grass  walks.  The 
upper  squares  are  devoted  to  flowers  and  the  lower  to  the  vege- 
tables. As  was  the  case  in  so  many  of  the  older  Virginia  gardens, 
the  flower  beds,  within  the  upper  squares,  were  laid  off  in  a  pattern 
that  formed  an  insignia  of  the  Order  of  Masons — here  they  out- 
lined a  Maltese  cross.  This  arrangement,  according  to  Masonic 
insignia,  indicated  that  the  owner  of  the  estate  belonged  to  that 
order.  An  illustration  of  this  may  be  seen  in  the  garden  at  Mount 
Vernon. 

The  corners  of  the  squares  in  the  Redlands  garden  were  marked 
by  shrubs,  many  of  which  are  still  there,  notably  the  fine  old  box- 
wood bushes  which  guard  the  entrance  and  those  that  separate  the 
vegetable  squares  from  the  flowers.  These  bushes  are  very 
unusual  examples  of  the  enormous  size  boxwood  of  this  type  can 
attain,  though,  of  course,  they  are  by  no  means  so  tall  as  the 
tree-box. 

The  Redlands  garden  is  screened  from  view  from  the  lawn  by 
the  original  lilac  hedge,  which  makes  indeed  a  fragrant  wall  of 
blossom  in  the  spring.  In  olden  times  this  garden  must  have  been 
an  enchanting  spot  with  its  upper  squares  laid  out  in  beds  of  bloom- 
ing flowers;  its  long  borders,  down  either  side  of  the  main  or 
central  walk,  of  cowslips,  hyacinths,  jonquils,  white  narcissi,  butter 
and  eggs,  violets,  peonies,  bleeding  hearts,  Madonna  lilies,  chrysan- 
themums, four  o'clocks,  Jacob's  ladder  (I  never  see  Jacob's  ladder 
now),  larkspur,  Star  of  Bethlehem,  and  lilies  of  the  valley,  with 
here  and  there  a  lovely  daily  fragrant  damask  rose,  or  red  June 
roses  growing  low  and  blooming  lavishly,  and  yellow  Harrisonias. 
There  were  coral  honeysuckle  and  white  jessamine  or  white  roses 
with  hearts  of  gold,  but  quaintest  of  all,  the  oldest  of  American 
garden  roses — the  queer,  little,  almost  ugly,  cinnamon  rose. 

Under  the  box-bushes  were  shy  white  violets,  not  to  forget  blue- 
eyed  periwinkle  and  the  flowering  shrubs — mock  orange,  snowball, 
syringa,  smoke  tree,  flowering  almond  and  just  a  little  Southern 
yellow  jessamine  and  the  smell  and  bloom  of  lilacs  everywhere. 

[269] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

At  the  bottom  and  down  the  sides  were  broad,  grassy  walks 
and  spaces  where  plum  and  small  flowering  fruit  trees  blossomed; 
here  apple  trees  stretched  their  long  limbs  out  lazily  in  the  spring 
air  waiting  until  the  great  cherry  trees,  which  towered  above  them, 
should  have  shed  their  snowy  bloom.  There  were  birds — birds 
everywhere. 

Underneath  these  fruit  trees,  blooming  untended  among  the 
grass,  are  yuccas  and  iris;  only  they  were  called  in  those  days  bear 
grass  and  flags,  and  the  leaves  of  the  yucca,  when  shredded  and 
knotted  together,  served  as  twine  for  the  garden  and  plantation. 

Perhaps  the  enchantment  of  the  spot  lay  largely  in  the  eyes  of 
the  beholder,  because  those  who  knew  it  and  lived  with  it  loved  it. 
In  all  the  hundred  and  twenty-five  years  of  its  life  it  has  always 
been  very  dearly  loved  by  some  woman,  its  mistress,  who  found 
in  it  happiness  and  tranquility  of  mind,  even  serenity  of  speech  in 
watching  and  tending  it  as  best  she  might.  So,  though  lacking 
many  things  that  make  other  gardens  beautiful  and  desirable,  yet 
Redlands  has  one  requisite,  that  is  a  prerequisite  of  every  garden, 
and  is  best  set  forth  in  the  old  well-known  lines — 

"A  gfarden  is  a  lovesome  spot, 
God  wot." 

Sally  Randolph  Carter. 


[270] 


'A.*,    § 


iMORVEN 

MONG  the  records  of  Albemarle  County,  in  the 
courthouse  at  Charlottesville,  is  that  of  a  deed 
drawn  up  and  signed  by  Thomas  Jefferson  in  his 
own  handwriting.  This  paper  states  that  on  De- 
cember 8,  1796,  William  Champ  Carter  and  his 
,  wife,  Martha,  sold  to  William  Short,  of  Philadel- 

phia, a  certain  parcel  of  land  known  as  Indian  Camp,  lying  on  the 
southeast  side  of  the  Southwest  Mountains.  This  land  was  sold 
for  one  thousand  five  hundred  and  sixty-seven  pounds  and  nme 
shillings. 

In  the  deed  witnessed  by  Mr.  Jefferson  it  is  mterestmg  to  note 
that  there  is  mention  made  of  the  rentals  of  the  tenants  gomg  to 
the  buyer  of  the  property. 

Again,  in  February,  1813,  William  Short,  who  was  an  aide  on 
the  staff  of  General  Washington,  sold  the  property  to  David  Hig- 
ginbotham.  The  name  of  Morven  was  probably  given  to  the  place 
when  the  present  brick  house  was  built  by  Mr.  Higginbotham, 
about  1820.  Plans  for  the  latter  are  said  to  have  been  drawn  by 
Thomas  Jefferson,  who  also  ordered  for  it  from  Paris  the  mantel 
of  Carrara  marble  which  adorns  the  drawing-room.  Near  this  house 
there  still  may  be  seen  at  Morven  an  old  and  very  attractive 
cottage,  which  was  probably  the  only  dwelling  on  the  place  in  1796. 
After  the  death  of  David  Higginbotham,  his  widow,  as  execu- 
trix, in  1853,  sold  the  place  to  Daniel  Smith.  At  this  time,  all 
the  property  pertaining  to  the  estate  was  disposed  of  as  the  heirs 
were  scattered.  The  servants  were  sold  from  the  old  cottage  steps, 
bringing  something  over  eighty  thousand  dollars.  An  old  darkey. 
Uncle  Lee  Jones  by  name,  who  still  survives,  tells  with  pride  that 
he  brought  one  thousand  eight  hundred  dollars.  He  stayed  with 
the  Smith  family  during  the  devastating  years  that  followed  the 

[271] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

War  Between  the  States,  and  was  always  a  faithful  friend  and 
overseer. 

In  1906,  Mr.  Samuel  Marshall  bought  Morven  from  the  Smith 
heirs,  and  since  that  time  the  old  garden  has  been  renewed.  Uncle 
Lee  Jones,  to  whom  reference  has  been  made  above,  came  one 
morning  to  see  his  old  home  under  its  new  master.  He  walked 
into  the  garden  and  said,  "Praise  God,  I  lives  to  see  Morven  bloom 
again." 

The  big  box-tree,  the  white  violets,  and  the  striped  grass  by 
the  garden  gates,  the  tall  bamboos  and  the  lovely  hollyhocks  that 
take  possession  every  year,  are  the  plantings  of  other  hands  than 
the  present  owners.  The  old  terraces  have  not  all  been  restored, 
but  there  has  never  been  found  any  drawn  plan  of  the  original 
garden.  Some  say  that  the  view  from  the  garden  is  lovelier  than 
anything  in  it.  Ash  Lawn,  the  old  Monroe  home,  lies  to  the  north, 
on  the  east  are  flat  woods  that  give  the  effect  of  a  sea  view,  and  the 
"mountain  on  the  place,"  as  a  previous  owner  described  it,  com- 
mands the  view  on  the  west. 

Monticello,  being  only  three  and  one-half  miles  away,  tradi- 
tion says  that  Thomas  Jefferson  rode  on  horseback  to  trade  at  the 
country  store  which  stood  at  the  foot  of  this  mountain  and  within 
the  confines  of  the  Morven  estate. 

The  present  garden  has  on  one  side  a  hedge  of  box  grown  from 
cuttings  taken  from  the  big  box-tree.  Around  the  driveway,  which 
leads  to  the  entrance  to  the  house,  there  is  a  new  box  hedge  which 
the  owner  calls  her  "war  hedge."  This  was  bought  in  February, 
19 17,  from  a  Belgian  salesman  who  told  her  that  these  plants  were 
the  last  shipment  that  could  be  made  out  of  Belgium,  as  the  German 
submarine  ultimatum  had  gone  into  effect.  Happily,  the  plants  have 
all  survived  and  flourished,  taking  courage,  no  doubt,  from  the  soil 
which  started  them. 

Josephine  P.  Marshall. 


[272] 


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ALBEMARLE  COUNTY.VA 


Lila  L.  Williams 


i 

FARMINGTON 

ARiMINGTON,  the  home  of  Mrs.  Warner  Wood, 
situated  three  miles  west  of  the  University  of  Vir- 
ginia, has  long  been  noted  as  one  of  the  rnost 
beautiful  places  in  Virginia.  The  charm  of  its 
hospitality,  the  beautiful  paintings,  and  other 
objects  of  art  in  the  house,  and  its  unsurpassed 
landscape  view  are  known  throughout  the  United  States. 

The  history  of  Farmington  is  quite  interesting  and  reads  like 
a  romance.  The  tract  of  land  on  which  the  house  is  situated 
originally  consisted  of  about  four  thousand  four  hundred  acres, 
and  was  first  patented  and  owned  by  Michael  Holland,  in  1744. 
In  1745,  Holland  sold  his  patent  to  Charles  Lewis,  of  Goochland 
County,  and  he,  in  turn,  sold  the  place  to  Francis  Jourdone,  in  1758. 

In  1760,  Jourdone  (now  spelled  Jerdone)  began  the  erection 
of  the  present  stately  dwelling,  which  commands  such  a  beautiful 
view  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains.  The  massive  brick  walls  range 
in  thickness  from  two  feet  on  the  sides  to  three  feet  on  the  gable 
end,  and  show  the  quality  of  the  material  used.  Even  now,  after 
more  than  one  hundred  years,  they  look  as  if  the  builder  intended 
them  to  stand,  as  the  pyramids,  for  all  time.  In  1785,  Jerdone 
sold  the  estate  to  George  Divers,  who  is  said  to  have  been  a  great 
friend  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 

Being  a  man  of  considerable  wealth,  and  holding  Mr.  Jefferson 
in  high  esteem,  Mr.  Divers  asked  the  Sage  of  Monticello  to  design 
for  him  a  fine  home.  Jefferson's  design  is  seen  in  the  octagonal 
front  of  the  present  residence,  which  was  begun  in  1803,  and  which 
is  said  to  have  been  inspired  by  the  country  house  seen  by  him  while 
abroad.  The  tradition  is  that  one  day  Jefferson  drove  out  to 
Farmington  and,  finding  that  his  plans  were  not  being  carried  out 
as  he  designed  them,  he  dismissed  all  the  workmen,  thus  ending  for 

[273] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

a  time  the  remodeling  of  the  Farmington  house.  Mr.  Divers  was 
away  from  home  at  the  time.  He  died  soon  after  his  return  and 
the  house  fell  to  his  heirs  in  an  unfinished  state  and  remained  so 
until  1852. 

Upon  the  death  of  George  Divers,  the  large  estate  was  divided 
among  his  many  relatives,  and  Farmington  fell  to  Isaac  White, 
who  held  it  until  1842.  The  next  owner  was  John  C.  Carter,  who 
lived  there  until  1852,  when  it  became  the  property  of  General 
Bernard  Peyton. 

Neither  White  nor  Carter  ever  finished  the  house,  which  had 
been  begun  by  Mr.  Divers  nearly  fifty  years  before,  but  General 
Peyton,  who  is  said  to  have  spent  thirty  thousand  dollars  upon  it, 
did  much  towards  its  completion.  The  last  addition,  however,  was 
made  in  1897,  after  Farmington  came  into  the  possession  of 
Warner  Wood. 

The  house  had  remained  unfinished  so  long  that  it  became  a 
common  superstition  among  the  negroes  that  whoever  finished  it 
would  die  when  the  task  was  done.  Strange  to  say,  this  super- 
stition was  fulfilled.  The  very  day  the  finishing  touches  were  put 
on.  General  Peyton,  who  had  done  so  much  to  beautify  and  preserve 
the  estate,  though  apparently  well  a  few  hours  before,  died  that 
night. 

In  1860-61,  Joseph  Miller,  a  wealthy  and  distinguished  British 
marine  engineer,  came  to  this  country  for  his  health,  and  bought 
Farmington  from  the  widow  of  General  Peyton,  in  February,  1861. 
Being  a  man  of  great  cultivation  and  a  lover  of  art,  Mr.  Miller 
brought  all  of  his  furniture,  silver,  china,  and  many  of  the  paint- 
ings from  Europe  with  him;  these  still  adorn  the  old  house  and 
charm  the  visitor  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  enter  its  portals. 
Merely  to  enumerate  them  would  fill  a  space  larger  than  is  allotted 
to  this  little  sketch.  The  house  and  a  large  part  of  the  estate  was 
next  inherited  by  Joseph  Miller's  sister,  Mrs.  Mary  Anne  Harper, 
then  a  widow  with  two  small  children,  Warner  and  Lucilla  Woods, 
by  a  former  marriage. 

[274] 


Robert   Woods 


Small   Box   Garden   at   Farminglon,   Showing   Corner   of   the    Conservatory 


Boxwood  in  Sweet  Briar   Garden,  Amherst   County 


The     Piedmont     Section 


The  lovely  box  garden  was  designed  and  made  by  Mrs,  Harper. 
This  is  located  at  the  southeast  side  of  the  house,  and  one  ap- 
proaches it  from  the  portico  or  conservatory^  or  through  a  little 
gate  opening  on  the  large  lawn.  This  garden  is  very  small  and 
just  as  unique.  In  it  there  are  thirteen  beds,  the  majority  diamond 
shaped;  each  bed  is  edged  with  dwarf-box.  In  all  of  them  roses 
are  planted,  but  now  and  then  may  be  seen  such  old-fashioned 
perennials  as  lilies,  larkspur,  and  mignonette.  On  the  lawn  are 
many  handsome  native  trees  and  beautiful  shrubs;  some  of  these 
are  quite  familiar  to  our  gardens,  but  others,  from  England,  are 
not  so  common.  The  double  pink  hawthorne  is  a  particularly 
decorative  shrub,  and  this  was  sent  over  from  England,  There  is 
also  a  walled  garden  at  the  southwestern  end  of  the  house,  which 
covers  one-half  acre.  Within  its  boundaries  many  kinds  of  fruits 
adapted  to  the  temperate  zone  were  planted,  and  against  the  walls 
were  trained  different  varieties  of  delicious  figs.  Many  of  the  fig 
bushes  still  remain  and  each  season  bear  large  crops, 

Robert  Woods. 


[275] 


BLOOMFIELD 


1 

1 

O  go  to  the  garden  at  Bloomfield,  you  leave  the 
main  road  five  miles  west  of  the  University  of 
Virginia,  cross  the  crest  of  a  hill  and  descend  into 
the  chill,  damp  atmosphere  of  a  little  hollow,  which 
always  seems  to  have  a  cool  climate  of  its  own,  no 
matter  how  hot  the  day  elsewhere.  Then  the  lane, 
whose  red  clay  banks  are  hung  with  honeysuckle  vines,  leads  up 
a  steep  incline,  and  you  find  yourself  at  the  gates  of  Bloom- 
field.  The  lawn,  shaded  by  elm  and  gingko  trees,  slopes  from  the 
big  brick  house  on  the  summit  down  to  the  gates,  where  the  road 
separates,  forming  a  huge  circle  up  to  the  door. 

The  garden  cannot  be  seen  from  the  front,  although  you  may 
go  into  it  through  a  small  gate  in  the  hedge;  but  the  proper 
entrance,  and  the  one  most  used,  is  from  the  door  at  the  east  end 
of  the  house.  Descending  the  steps,  one  first  emerges  from  a  mass 
of  box-bushes  and  spiraea  grown  to  the  height  of  trees.  These  are 
probably  the  oldest  plants  in  the  garden,  unless  the  veteran  oak, 
which  towers  above  the  tiny  masonry  of  the  bird's  bath,  is  more 
ancient,  and  next,  I  am  sure,  is  the  gnarled  old  seckel  pear  tree  in 
a  far  corner,  still  bountifully  bearing  its  reddish-gold  fruit  in  the 
fall.  However,  there  are  a  number  of  shrubs,  quantities  of  figs, 
and  some  roses  still  living  which  were  also  residents  of  the  orig- 
inal garden,  planned  and  planted  nearly  a  century  ago  by  Paul 
Goodloe,  a  native  of  Louisiana,  who  built  the  house. 

When  the  box-trees  are  passed,  there  spreads  before  one  a 
level  plateau,  enclosed  on  three  sides  by  a  high  hedge,  at  the  foot 
of  which  is  a  wide,  well-kept  border  of  flowers.  In  the  center 
of  the  plateau  stands  a  summer-house,  built  of  stone  by  the  present 
owner,  with  tiled  floor,  vine-covered,  and  cool  even  in  the  noon- 
day sun. 

[276] 


-    -■■■.•     •>  t: 


A    Garden    W  alk   at    Bloomfield 


From   an   Old   Print 


Bloomfield,   Albemarle   CountY 


The     Piedmont     Section 


The  wide  stretches  of  velvety  grass  are  shaded  with  fruit  and 
mimosa  trees,  and  interspersed  with  flower-beds,  so  long  and  wide 
that  you  wonder  how  enough  flowers  to  fill  them  are  ever  planted. 
Fortunately,  however,  very  little  planting  is  now  necessary,  for,  in 
between  the  crepe  myrtles  and  lilacs,  flowering  shrubs  and  roses, 
the  transient  flowers  sow  their  own  seeds  with  the  assistance  of 
the  wind,  and  come  up  every  spring  with  no  less  grace  because 
planted  "by  an  Unseen  Hand."  They  represent,  surely,  those 
"flowery  beds  of  ease"  spoken  of  in  the  old  hymn. 

If  the  garden-viewer  has  spent  her  youth  in  the  mountains,  as 
I  have,  and  then  had  to  live  away  from  them,  she  will  only  vaguely 
realize  the  garden  at  first,  because  she  will  have  to  sit  down  in  the 
summer-house  and  not  merely  look  at  the  mountains,  but  let  the 
sight  of  them  sink  into  her  soul  until  she  is  satisfied.  For  the  view 
is  the  great  feature  which  individualizes  this  garden,  and  makes  it 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  others,  and  the  most  beloved  by  me. 

In  the  tropical  garden,  described  in  "The  Garden  of  Allah," 
the  beholders  looked  out  over  the  wall  at  a  marvelous  view  of  the 
desert,  and  neither  the  flowers  nor  Larbi's  flute  could  lure  them 
away  from  it.  There  is  no  wall  to  the  Bloomfield  garden,  and  the 
hedge  is  low  on  this  side;  the  adjoining  country  spreads  out  kindly 
below  in  rolling  hills  and  homesteads,  the  latter  only  recognizable 
by  position,  for  that  miniature  cluster  of  trees,  with  the  big  gable 
peeping  out,  is  the  stately  Spring  Hill — where  my  grandmother's 
grandfather  lived  when  Bloomfield  was  built. 

Above,  the  Blue  Ridge  range,  extending  from  one  side  of  the 
horizon  to  the  other,  with  its  huge  ragged  outline  against  the  sky, 
is  a  sight  to  leave  one  breathless.  The  dim-blue  mountains  lie  in 
the  distance,  the  slate-colored  and  soft-greys  nearer,  while  the  few 
in  the  foreground  are  a  shaggy  dark-green;  white  clouds  floating 
over  them  make  shadows  in  strange  shapes.  A  winding  trail  of 
smoke — but,  no  !  it  is  all  too  dreamily  delicious  to  describe  !  Words 
only  M«-naturalize  a  beautiful  impression. 

Unlike  most  old  places,  whose  gardens  were  in  their  prime 

[277] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

before  the  War  Between  the  States,  the  glory  of  this  one  lies  even 
more  in  the  present  than  in  the  past.  Its  future  was  assured  when 
J.  Tatnall  Lea,  a  Northern  soldier,  captured  and  carried  through 
this  Piedmont  country  as  a  prisoner,  was  so  impressed  by  its  beauty, 
that  he  eventually  returned  to  make  his  summer  home  among  its 
hills.  Here,  some  years  later,  he  brought  the  mistress  of  Bloom- 
field,  who  quickly  overcame  any  sectional  hostility  by  outdoing  the 
Virginians  at  their  own  game  of  impetuous  and  lavish  hospitality, 
thus  proving  herself  utterly  lacking  in  the  ability  "to  calculate," 
considered  at  that  time  to  be  the  characteristic  of  all  "Northerners." 

Here,  also,  came  the  youngest  daughter,  the  real  garden-builder 
or  restorer,  to  plant  her  first  flower  beds  as  a  little  child.  Later, 
as  a  young  girl,  she  left  Philadelphia  every  spring,  coming  down 
for  a  week  in  April,  armed  with  varieties  of  plants  and  seeds. 
She  then  proceeded  to  plant  (with  the  aid  of  the  gardener  and, 
often,  the  coachman,  the  carpenter  and  any  others  she  could  com- 
mandeer in  the  absence  of  a  pretendedly  irate,  but  over-indulgent, 
father)  the  flowers  which  were  to  make  the  garden  so  wonderful 
later  in  the  season  and  indeed  for  all  time.  So  It  seems  natural 
that,  after  it  had  been  the  stage-setting  for  many  romances,  this 
beautiful  girl  later  on  elected  to  be  married  In  the  garden  Instead 
of  a  church.  Remembering  that  the  "God  of  the  Open  Air"  sets 
his  altars  everywhere,  surely  no  more  fitting  place  could  have  been 
found  for  the  ceremony,  which  transplanted  the  garden-builder 
permanently  to  Virginia  soil.  She  is  now  the  owner  of  Bloomfield, 
Mrs.  Nancy  Lea  Marshall. 

Although,  to  many  people,  the  Bloomfield  garden  may  look  Its 
loveliest  In  the  spring,  when  the  fruit  trees  and  lilacs  are  in  bloom, 
the  first  week  in  September  is  the  favored  time  for  me,  and  no 
happiness  compares  to  spending  a  morning  there  then.  I  go  out 
early,  when  the  dew  is  sparkling  over  everything  and  the  spiders' 
webs  are  made  of  diamond  necklaces,  and  take  a  seat  in  a  chair 
facing  the  mountains,  underneath  the  oldest  mimosa  tree. 

The  flower-beds  are  brilliant,  though  their  abundance  does  not 

[278] 


The     Piedmont     Section 

give  the  impression  of  individual  flowers  so  much  as  a  profusion  of 
color — color  that  fills  the  artist  in  you  with  delight!  Beds  of 
indigo  and  topaz;  masses  of  orange,  shading  to  cream;  beds  filled 
with  branching  candelabra  of  red  gold.  Carpets  of  pansies,  purple 
and  mauve;  white  clematis  above,  waving  its  star-sprinkled  sprays 
with  the  wind,  and  thorny  vines  with  vermilion  buds  tangling 
behind  w'hite  lilies;  immense  hydrangeas,  tinted  like  diatoms;  long 
avenues  of  pink  gladioli  stretching  away  to  the  west. 

On  days  like  these,  the  hazy  mountains  look  perfectly  enormous 
and  give  you  a  strange  uplifting-of-the-spirit  sensation.  An  hour 
later  I  drag  my  eyes  away  from  them,  for  the  advance  of  the  morn- 
ing brings  many  important  occupations.  There  are  my  old  friends, 
the  fruit  trees,  that  must  be  visited;  to  dispute  the  bees'  title  to  the 
softest  seckel  pears,  to  find  the  first  ripe  figs,  to  waylay  "Kritty," 
the  pretty  octoroon,  as  she  passes  through  with  a  tray  of  purple 
grapes — and  to  eat  of  these  fruits  under  the  mimosa  tree.  There 
are  three  of  these  mimosas,  a  large  young  one,  which  is  the  daugh- 
ter of  this  older,  and  a  tiny  one,  surely  its  grandchild.  Every  year 
I  plan  to  adopt  the  grandchild  mimosa  and  carry  it  home  to  Rich- 
mond to  raise — but  it  is  there  still. 

Finally,  the  garden-builder  herself  comes  out  to  join  me,  ac- 
companied now  like  the  delightful  Elizabeth  in  her  German  garden, 
by  three  babies,  their  laughter  tinkling  through  the  box-bushes  even 
before  they  appear.  A  moment  later,  perhaps,  with  dimpled  arms 
outstretched  and  squeals  of  excitement,  they  chase,  toddle  and 
tumble  after,  but  never  overtake,  the  bright-hued  butterflies,  flying 
in  and  out  among  the  flowers,  while  the  mother  sits  down  to  her 
knitting  by  me. 

Nothing  can  surpass  the  Bloomfield  garden  now!  A  few 
locusts  may  be  singing,  "Good-bye,  Summer";  a  dead  leaf  falling 
may  remind  the  rest  they  will  not  be  here  always — but  "let  their 
loveliness  fade  as  it  will,"  for  this  immediate  moment  it  is  flawless, 
no  flower  fears  the  frost  and  every  vine  "entwines  itself  verdantly 
still."  Nan  Maury  Lightfoot. 

[279] 


MONTICELLO 


HE  home  of  Thomas  Jefferson  is  situated  on  a  high 
hill  four  miles  southeast  of  Charlottesville.  It  is 
called  Monticello  (Little  Mountain)  and  is  ap- 
proached by  a  winding  macadam  road  which  clings 
to  the  side  of  Carter's  Mountain,  the  adjoining 
peak  to  Monticello  and  one  of  the  Southwest  range. 
The  steep  drive  offers  many  sources  of  interest  to  the  lover  of 
nature.  The  trickling  of  the  mountain  streams  was  music  to  the 
traveller  in  the  old  days,  for  soon  one  came  upon  a  moss-covered 
rocky  basin,  or  spring,  embowered  in  ferns,  which  was  welcomed 
as  refreshment  for  man  and  beast.  Native  shrubs  and  trees  frame 
with  artistic  beauty  the  vistas  of  the  valley  below,  where  lies  the 
town  of  Charlottesville;  the  view  extending  a  mile  to  the  west  em- 
braces the  classic  buildings  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  behind 
which  stretch  in  undulating  lines  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  one 
spur  of  which,  the  Ragged  Mountains,  was  made  famous  in  the 
writings  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  one  time  student  of  this  great  seat 
of  learning. 

At  the  crest  of  the  mountain  and  at  the  point  at  which  the  county 
road  begins  to  fall  to  the  other  side  into  the  eastern  valley,  there 
is  a  gate  at  one's  left  which  is  the  outer  entrance  to  Jefferson's 
estate.  A  lodge  has  recently  been  built  there  by  the  present  owner.  . 
The  drive  to  the  house  through  the  woods  is  enchanting  in  early 
spring,  and  the  luxuriant  growth  of  Scotch  broom,  with  its  pendant 
yellow  blossoms,  carpets  the  ground  beneath,  forming  a  veritable 
cloth  of  gold. 

On  the  right,  one  passes  a  sacred  spot,  the  family  graveyard. 
Here  lies  interred  the  mortal  remains  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  his 
beloved  wife,  his  children  and  grandchildren. 

A  monument  is  inscribed  with  the  epitaph  written  by  Jefferson 

[280] 


Monticello — Enst   Front 


Monticello — West  Front 


Serpentine  Wall  at  the  University  of  Virginia 


The     Piedmont     Section 

himself,  "Here  lies  Thomas  Jefferson,  author  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence,  of  the  Statute  of  Virginia  for  Religious  Freedom 
and  Father  of  the  University  of  Virginia." 

The  second  gate  opens  out  on  the  lawn,  and  here  the  house 
comes  into  full  view;  on  the  left  of  the  driveway  are  the  servants' 
quarters  and  on  the  right  the  garden. 

This  garden  is  arranged  in  a  chain  of  rectangular  plots,  with 
grass  walks  between.  Originally,  vegetables  were  planted  here  in 
long  rows  to  be  easily  worked  by  horse  and  plow.  There  was  a 
background  of  native  shrubs  and  trees  through  which  one  caught 
glimpses  of  the  valley  below  and  the  distant  strip  of  the  pine  belt. 
Old-fashioned  shrubs  were  scattered  throughout  the  garden  near 
the  paths  and  in  the  angles.  Further  on,  just  before  one  approaches 
the  overseer's  house,  there  is  seen  a  small  graveyard  owned  by  the 
Levy  family,  the  present  owners  of  the  property. 

On  the  left  of  this  driveway  was  once  a  greensward  running 
along  the  side  of  the  quarters,  or  southern  pavilion,  and  in  the 
spring  it  was  a  mass  of  bulbous  flowers  familiar  to  old  homes,  such 
as  jonquils,  single  blue  Roman  hyacinths  and  Stars  of  Bethlehem. 
The  blue  feathered  hyacinth  (Muscari  comosum  monstrosum) 
found  congenial  environment  here.  This  was  a  rare  flower  in  those 
days,  and  today  is  not  generally  seen  here. 

With  such  evidence  of  remains  of  a  garden,  one  readily  con- 
jectures that  on  this  gentle  slope,  protected  from  the  north  by  the 
servants'  quarters  and  work  shops  and  exposed  to  the  warm  rays 
of  the  sun  from  the  south,  Jefferson  must  have  laid  out  here  an 
ornamental  and  terraced  garden. 

In  an  old  book  we  read  that  "The  nail  factory,  the  machine 
shops  and  weaving  room  were  on  the  southeast  of  the  house,  beyond 
which  was  the  terraced  garden  in  which  he  delighted  to  exhibit  his 
horticultural  products." 

His  granddaughter,  Sarah  Randolph,  in  her  "Life  of  Thomas 
Jefferson,"  constantly  refers  to  his  love  of  trees  and  shrubs  and 
of  their  intimate  walks  in  the  garden.    One  pictures  them  strolling 

[281]     • 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

down  the  path  from  the  house,  emerging  through  an  avenue  of  old- 
fashioned  shi-ubs  into  the  full  sunshine  of  the  formal  flower  garden. 

Just  at  the  point  where  the  visitor  alights  from  carriage  or 
motor  may  still  be  seen  the  old-time  shrubs  on  either  side  of  the 
path  leading  to  the  house.  A  large  clump  of  lilacs  and  syringa 
with  modern  privet  hides  the  exit  of  the  underground  passage  to  the 
house.  From  this  it  is  said  that  Jefferson  escaped  on  the  occasion 
of  Tarleton's  raid.  Two  wonderful  copper  beeches  flank  the  north 
and  south  sides  of  the  house  on  the  western  lawn  and  other  hand- 
some trees  testify  to  Jefferson's  love  of  the  beautiful  in  nature. 
In  1793,  in  some  of  his  writings,  he  mentions  that  "The  trees 
planted  nearest  the  house  at  Monticello  are  not  yet  full  grown." 

The  Arnold  Arboretum  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  the 
year  1784  Thomas  Jefferson,  in  his  "Notes  on  the  State  of  Vir- 
ginia," published  the  first  comprehensive  list  of  the  plants  of  Vir- 
ginia, among  which  are  some  of  the  most  beautiful  trees  and  shrubs 
of  the  world. 

The  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  who  visited  Monticello  in  his 
"Travels  in  North  America,"  speaks  of  the  scores  of  deer  in  the 
park. 

Many  trees  from  foreign  countries  are  planted  on  the  eastern 
and  western  lawns,  and  his  granddaughter  says  "much  time  and 
expense  were  devoted  by  him  to  improving  his  house  and  grounds. 
While  in  France  and  England,  Jefferson  visited  gardens  with  a  view 
of  reproducing  them  in  Virginia,  and  of  importing  trees  and  shrubs 
from  other  countries.  In  a  notebook  of  his  is  found  a  description 
of  Blenheim,  the  home  of  the  Duke  of  Marlborough.  His  grand- 
daughter speaks  also  of  a  garden  book,  and  says,  "This  book,  in 
which  he  began  to  make  entries  as  early  as  the  year  1776  and  which 
he  continued  to  keep  all  through  life,  except  when  from  home,  has 
everything  jotted  down  in  it  from  the  date  of  the  earliest  peach 
blossom  to  the  day  when  his  wheat  was  ready  for  the  sickle." 

Thomas  Jefferson  was  known  as  an  intelligent  and  progressive 
farmer  and  was  most  careful  to  keep  account  of  the  operations  of 

[282] 


The     Piedmont     Section 

his  farm  and  household.  The  achievement  dearest  to  his  heart 
was  the  founding  of  the  University  of  Virginia.  Through  a  tele- 
scope he  watched  the  building  operations  from  a  room  in  the  domed 
roof  of  Monticello.  Scarcely  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not  visit 
the  site  itself,  overseeing  the  building  of  his  own  design,  which  is  a 
monument  to  his  ability,  foresight  and  wisdom. 

Much  credit  is  due  the  present  owner,  Mr.  Jefferson  Levy, 
from  the  fact  that  when  he  inherited  this  estate  from  Commodore 
Levy,  who  purchased  it  from  Jefferson's  heirs,  he  made  no  change 
in  house  and  gardens,  but  restored  Monticello  to  its  original  beauty. 

JUANITA   MaSSIE   PATTERSON. 


[283] 


MIRADOR 


IRADOR,  originally  the  home  of  Colonel  James  M. 

Bowen,  in  Albemarle  County,  is  perhaps  one  of  the 

finest  examples  of  early  American  architecture  to 

be  found  in  Piedmont  Virginia. 

The  ancestors  of  Colonel  Bowen,  who  landed 

on  the  cold,  unfriendly  shores  of  Massachusetts  in 
1644,  seem  to  have  steadily  moved  southward  with  each  succeeding 
generation,  until  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century  we  find 
them  settled  in  Virginia,  where,  in  1758,  Richard  Bowen  "Soldier" 
was  granted  land  for  services  in  "Captain  Rutherford's  Rangers" 
in  the  French  and  Indian  Colonial  Wars. 

The  grandson  of  this  Richard  Bowen  was  the  owner  and  builder 
of  Mirador  between  the  years  1825-30.  Here  in  the  beautiful 
Greenwood  Valley  near  the  Great  Blue  Ridge  he  placed  the  home- 
stead in  the  center  of  an  extensive  plantation,  from  which  can  be 
seen  the  high  pealcs  which  tower  above  the  dividing  lines  of  Albe- 
marle, Augusta  and  Nelson  Counties.  Mount  Humpback,  which 
overlooks  five  counties,  and  on  which  one  of  the  first  Weather 
Bureaus  In  Virginia  was  stationed,  can  be  seen  In  the  distance. 
Because  of  the  magnificent  view  and  for  love  of  the  soft  Spanish 
names,  Colonel  Bowen  called  his  home  "El  Mirador,"  a  Spanish 
derivation  from  the  verb  Mira — Look !  Behold !  El  Mirador  mean- 
ing a  place  commanding  an  extensive,  a  great  view;  the  El  has  long 
since  been  dropped  and  only  Mirador  used. 

This  house,  like  those  of  the  preceding  century,  was  a  square 
building  of  brick  with  two  stories  and  an  attic;  it  had  a  wide  hall 
and  four  large  rooms  on  each  floor.  The  four  chimneys  and  the 
outbuildings  used  as  office,  schoolhouse  and  kitchen,  were  also 
of  brick.  The  spacious  stairway  with  its  mahogany  rail,  the  fan- 
shaped  lights  above  the  doors,  and  the  fan-shaped  wood  trim 
throughout  the  building  added  much  to  the  beauty  of  this  stately  old 

[284] 


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The     Piedmont     Section 


home.    The  wings  were  added  after  1890  by  Mr.  C.  D.  Langhorne, 
as  was  also  the  beautiful  rock  enclosure  and  handsome  gateway. 

Hospitality  at  Mirador  was  part  of  its  atmosphere.  The  Vir- 
ginia woman  from  her  earliest  training  knew  that  she  was  ex- 
pected to  be  a  good  neighbor  and  a  gracious  hostess,  however  hard 
and  inconvenient  it  might  often  be,  and  from  old  letters  and  diaries 
It  would  appear  that  Mirador  was  continually  having  what  today  we 
would  call  a  house  party. 

The  University  of  Virginia  is  only  seventeen  miles  away — just 
the  distance  to  cover  on  horseback,  reaching  Mirador  in  time  for 
tea  or  to  spend  the  night,  or  it  might  be  several  nights  when  there 
was  "special  company."  At  that  time,  when  some  of  the  belles  and 
beaux  of  that  day  were  guests  in  this  charming  home,  there  would 
be  dancing  each  evening,  and  the  negro  fiddlers  would  call  the 
figures  as  the  young  people  would  turn  their  partners  and  swing 
corners  in  the  picturesque  dances  and  the  popular  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverly. 

Prominent  among  the  guests  In  the  early  days  at  Mirador  was 
Colonel  Crozet,  the  distinguished  French  engineer  in  charge  of 
the  extension  of  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad,  which  at  that  time 
only  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  but  which,  under 
Colonel  Crozet,  after  eight  years  of  hard  work,  crossed  the 
mountains  and  opened  up  the  great  Valley  of  Virginia,  and  the 
greater  West,  to  modern  transportation.  During  these  years 
(1850-58)  the  distinguished  engineer  spent  much  time  at  Mirador. 

With  all  its  air  of  stability  and  gracious  dignity  the  real  charm 
of  Mirador  lay  in  its  grounds.  The  lawn,  or  yard,  to  use  the  less 
pretentious  term  of  that  day,  was  terraced,  making  a  "falling 
garden."  Stone  steps  led  from  terrace  to  terrace,  and  brick  walks, 
flanked  by  low-growing  box,  made  a  background  for  the  lovely 
monthly  roses — the  roses  of  Provence — that  filled  these  and  the 
two  long  borders  that  ran  from  the  hospitable  front  door  to  the 
lower  terrace.  Under  the  windows  there  were  lilacs,  crepe  myrtles, 
and  jasmines,  where  the  robins  found  their  first  resting  places  In 


[285] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

the  spring  and  where  later  on  they  made  their  nests.  The  trees  on 
the  terraces  are  one  of  the  chief  beauties  of  the  place.  There  are 
splendid  oaks,  and  old  hemlocks,  yews  that  came  from  a  far  country, 
maples,  holly  and  mimosa. 

The  garden  proper  was  behind  the  house  and  was  enclosed  by 
a  white  paling  fence  over  which  grew  jasmines  and  climbing  roses 
in  great  profusion,  filling  the  air  with  their  sweetness  in  the  season 
of  bloom. 

Like  the  gardens  of  that  day,  there  were  vegetable  squares 
edged  with  flowers,  broad  grass  walks  hedged  by  box  and  old- 
fashioned  perennials  of  every  kind,  where  jonquils,  tulips,  violets 
and  hyacinths  welcomed  the  spring,  and  peonies,  roses  and  sweet- 
scented  lilies  held  sway  later  on.  There  were  masses  of  shrubbery 
and  tall  growing  box,  as  well  as  jasmines  and  lilacs.  Further  on 
were  the  grape  arbors,  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes. 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  when  Mirador  was  at  its  loveliest — 
whether  in  the  June  sunshine  when  the  air  was  filled  with  the  odor 
of  all  the  blooming  things  and  the  shadows  on  the  lawn  were  cool 
and  beguiling,  or  in  winter,  when  the  first  snows  had  fallen  and 
turned  the  hemlocks,  ivy  and  yews  into  a  dream  garden  and  the 
moon  shone  down  on  this  peaceful  valley  with  the  mountains  all 
white  in  the  distance. 

The  old  "Post  Road"  leading  from  Richmond  and  Washington 
to  Staunton  wound  its  way  through  this  mountainous  country  in 
front  of  the  Mirador  lawn,  and  many  noted  travelers  have  stopped 
to  rest  a  while  at  the  old  "Long  House  Tavern,"  just  a  short 
distance  east  of  the  place,  before  continuing  their  journey  over 
the  tortuous  rocky  road  which  led  across  the  Blue  Ridge  Moun- 
tains and  on  into  the  Valley  of  Virginia. 

Mirador,  at  the  death  of  Colonel  Bowen  passed  to  his  daughter, 
Mary,  who  had  married  Colonel  O.  R.  Funsten,  of  Clarke  County, 
and  it  was  held  by  the  Funsten  family  until  1890,  when  it  was  sold 
to  C.  D.  Langhorne,  and  is  now  the  home  of  his  granddaughter, 
xMrs.  Ronald  Tree.  Bessie  Carter  Funsten. 

[286] 


GATt  fCSTS 


^■'•'^'^.a.^^r*^ 


GR.OUMDS 


LAYOUT 
ALTERATIONS    <Jr  ADDITIONS 

TO 

RED  HILL,  CHARLOTTE  CO.,VA, 

MRS.  HARRISON 


Charles   Ijarton    Keene 


RED    HILL 

EVERAL  places  in  Virginia  can  claim  the  honor 
of  having  been  at  one  time  the  residence  of  Patrick 
Henry  but  it  was  at  Red  Hill,  in  Charlotte  County, 
that  he  spent  the  latter  years  of  his  life  and  which 
is  his  last  resting  place. 

There  are  two  approaches  to  Red  Hill,  one 
over  the  highlands,  the  other  through  the  lowgrounds.  The  road 
over  the  ridge,  through  the  woods,  leads  to  what  appears  to  be 
the  front  entrance,  as  the  lawn  on  the  north  side  is  shady  and  in- 
viting, being  rather  densely  planted  with  a  row  of  cedars  along  the 
fence,  groups  of  spreading  osage  orange  trees,  several  locusts,  and 
hedges  of  tree-box.  But  the  red  clay  road,  like  a  deep  gash  in  the 
hill  from  which  the  place  was  named,  continues  to  the  right  and 
follows  the  contour  of  the  lawn,  outlined  by  a  hedge  of  Japan 
quince,  as  far  as  the  front  gate,  which  faces  south. 

The  grounds  are  not  extensive  and  vehicles  stop  outside  the 
gates.  The  front  yard  is  as  open  to  the  sunlight  as  the  rear  is 
shaded  and  secluded. 

Leaving  the  road,  one  passes  between  two  stone  capped  brick 
posts  set  in  the  boxwood  hedge  which  borders  the  lawn,  to  uphold 
a  wrought-iron  gate.  A  few  feet  from  this  gate  stands  a  sun  dial 
from  which  extends  direct  to  the  house  a  most  remarkable  maze 
of  box. 

In  front  of  the  house,  towards  the  east,  in  one  of  the  circles 
formed  by  the  tree-box  hedge,  is  a  large,  scraggly,  old  locust  tree. 
There  was  once  another  on  the  west  under  which  it  is  said  Patrick 
Henry  sat,  on  a  summer  day,  with  a  can  of  water  from  a  "cool 
spring"  and  a  gourd,  playing  his  fiddle  and  enjoying  the  view  of 
the  valley  to  the  south.  A  large  cedar  and  a  pear  tree  are  the  only 
other  trees  on  the  front  lawn. 

[287] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

A  beautiful  and  luxuriant  hedge  of  tree-box,  about  four  feet 
high,  pungent  and  aromatic  in  the  sun,  spreads  across  the  front 
lawn  in  an  unusual  design  and  walls  in  the  grass  walks  that  lead 
to  the  house.  An  interesting  feature  about  the  hedges  at  Red  Hill 
is  that  they  are  of  tree-box,  clipped  and  kept  short,  instead  of  the 
dwarf-box  generally  used  for  this  purpose. 

The  house,  which  was  frame  and  painted  white,  consisted  of  a 
two-story  dwelling  with  an  east  wing.  On  the  front  porch  every 
one  stopped,  involuntarily,  to  admire  the  extensive  view,  the  long, 
gradual  slope  of  the  ridge,  planted  with  tobacco  and  wheat,  the 
wide  lowgrounds  of  waving  green  corn  on  the  Staunton  River,  and 
the  dark  green  wooded  hills  of  Halifax  County  across  the  stream. 

As  one  entered  the  front  door,  the  charming  wainscoted  Colo- 
nial hall  in  the  two-story  addition  built  by  Patrick  Henry's  son, 
John  Henry,  extended  straight  through  the  house.  The  north  door 
gave  a  delightful  view  of  the  cool  and  shaded  rear  lawn,  while 
the  south  door  seemed  to  be  a  frame  for  the  distant  landscape 
dazzling  in  the  brilliant  sunshine. 

On  the  side  lawn,  to  the  west  of  the  house,  screened  off  from 
the  rear  by  a  high  box-hedge  and  a  tremendous  holly  tree,  is  the 
kitchen — one  of  those  proverbial  Virginia  country  kitchens  that 
were  so  far  away  that  hot  battercakes  had  to  be  brought  to  the 
house  on  horseback!  When  the  west  wing  was  built  by  Mrs.  M.  B. 
Harrison,  great-granddaughter  of  Patrick  Henry,  and  the  present 
owner,  a  kitchen  was  added  to  the  house  as  well  as  other  modern 
conveniences. 

The  east  wing,  a  story-and-a-half  Colonial  structure,  was  the 
original  house.  It  had  high  white  mantels  and  a  crooked,  narrow, 
boxed-In  stairway,  and  the  massive  brass  locks  on  the  doors  were 
given  Patrick  Henry  as  a  fee  In  a  lawsuit.  It  was  In  one  of  the 
rooms  of  this  wing  that  Patrick  Henry  died,  sitting  in  his  three- 
cornered  mahogany  chair,   facing  death  with  Christian  fortitude. 

At  the  end  of  this  wing,  through  the  shed  that  Patrick  Henry 
added  because  "he  wished  to  hear  the  patter  of  the  raindrops  on 

[288] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


its  roof,"  lies  the  way  to  the  garden  which  extended  all  along  the 
east  side  of  the  lawn. 

At  the  time  that  the  west  wing  was  added,  the  two  offices — 
Patrick  Henry's  from  the  shady  seclusion  of  the  back  yard,  and 
William  Wirt  Henry's  from  the  sunshiny  front  yard — were  moved 
into  the  spacious  garden  and  placed  together  to  form  a  cottage. 
Since  the  house  was  burned  in  February,  1919,  this  cottage  has 
served  as  the  residence. 

Along  the  fence,  between  yard  and  garden,  jonquils  are  planted, 
and  to  the  right  of  the  garden  gate  once  stood  a  handsome  pecan 
tree  which  has  long  since  blown  down, 

A  bit  to  the  east  is  the  old  garden  where  box-hedges  separate 
colors  and  varieties  of  flowers  and  shrubs,  some  of  which  were 
brought  originally  from  Mount  Vernon.  The  situation  and  treat- 
ment of  the  garden  which  leads  its  well-clipped  hedges  down  the 
slope  of  the  hill  in  terrace  form,  were  selected  by  Mistress  Elvira 
Henry  and  prove  her  to  have  been  an  artist  in  this  line.  And  the 
pride  of  her  garden  was  a  Martha  Washington  rose. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  garden,  oneither  side  of  the  walk,  stand 
four  large  box-trees  that  meet  at  the  top  and  form  a  leafy,  green 
bower.  An  unique  feature  of  this  arbor  is  a  yellow  jessamine  that 
blooms  unseen  in  the  tops  of  the  box-trees  and  gives  forth  a  delight- 
ful fragrance  whose  source  is  difficult  to  locate.  There  is  a  row 
of  fig  bushes  to  the  left  of  the  garden  gate  and  a  bed  of  white 
violets  on  the  right.  All  along  the  garden  walk,  which  leads  to 
the  graveyard,  and  the  one  bisecting  it  are  planted  tea  and  hardy 
roses,  calycanthus,  spiraea,  snowballs  and  other  old-fashioned 
flowering  shrubs.  The  remainder  of  the  ample  garden  is  given 
over  to  vegetables. 

The  graveyard,  at  the  extreme  east  side  of  the  garden,  is  en- 
closed by  a  boxwood  hedge.  The  ground  around  the  tombs  of 
Patrick  Henry  and  his  wife,  Dorothea  Dandridge,  is  covered  with 
an  ever  green  carpet  of  periwinkle,  which  in  the  spring  is  dotted 
with  hundreds  of  little  blue  blossoms. 


[289] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

The  slave  quarters,  which  always  prove  of  interest  to  visitors, 
lie  some  distance  from  the  house,  and  the  stories  told  of  the  old 
darkies  who  have  dwelt  in  them  would  fill  a  volume  of  eighteenth 
century  lore.  To  the  right  may  be  seen  a  spring-house  sheltering 
a  small  pond  of  bubbling  water,  and  farther  on,  racing  merrily 
towards  the  river,  runs  the  old  Cool  Spring  from  which  Patrick 
Henry  lifted  many  a  gourd  filled  with  fresh,  cool  water. 

Walking  about  the  grounds  in  the  sunshine  and  in  the  shadows 
of  the  trees,  one  can  almost  visualize  the  scenes  of  former  days, 
when  the  patriot,  with  his  family  and  friends,  trod  these  same  box- 
bordered  paths. 

Elise  Thomson  Clark. 


[290] 


THE   OAKS 

MONG  the  large  estates  on  the  Staunton  River  in 
Charlotte  County  are  Red  Hill,  the  home  and 
burial  place  of  Patrick  Henry;  Staunton  Hill,  of 
the  Bruces,  whose  noble  mansion  was  for  many 
years  the  most  costly  in  Virginia,  and  Is  still  one 
of  the  most  beautiful;  Ridgeway,  of  the  Carring- 
tons,  and  The  Oaks,  of  the  Rices — to  name  only  a  few  of  many, 
noted  for  their  spacious  homes  and  lovely  surroundings. 

The  Oaks  was  for  years  known  as  South  Isle,  but  the  changing 
course  of  the  river  having  left  the  distinctive  island  in  its  low- 
grounds  high  and  dry  save  in  times  of  freshet,  the  name  had  become 
a  case  of  "lucus  a  non  lucetido,"  and  was  accordingly  changed 
about  two  decades  ago  to  one  made  obvious  by  a  surrounding  grove. 
We  hear,  however,  that  the  present  owner  has  returned  to  the 
earlier  title. 

Every  old  house  was  noted  for  its  garden.  In  ante-bellum 
Virginia  her  garden  was  the  pride,  almost  the  passion,  of  the 
mistress  of  the  plantation;  it  was  as  much  outside  the  masculine 
province  as  was  the  cut  of  her  gown.  All  that  was  required  of 
the  master  was  the  loan  of  "hands"  in  times  of  emergency.  The 
garden  was  designed  by  the  Lady  of  the  Manor  and  planted  under 
her  supervision.  It  was  the  expression  of  herself:  a  landscape 
gardener  would  have  been  an  impertinent  Intruder. 

The  garden  of  The  Oaks,  as  It  now  exists,  was  the  creation, 
before  mid-Victorian  days,  of  Mrs.  Izard  Bacon  Rice,  a  woman 
with  the  latent  powers  of  an  artist.  Its  ample  acreage  was  divided 
by  broad,  turf-edged  walks  Into  plots  of  varying  size  and  shape. 
The  central  walk  was  bordered  by  alternating  shrubs  of  box  and 
of  "pink  perpetual"  roses.  The  roses  have  now  become  lost  in  a 
continuous  wall  of  box  more  than  six  feet  in  height.     Midway  its 

[291] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

length  the  walk  divides  and  embraces  a  large  flower  square,  so 
placed  that  its  point  faces  the  walk,  giving  it  a  diamond-shaped 
effect.  In  the  middle  is  a  circular  bed,  the  rest  of  the  square  being 
subdivided  into  symmetrical  beds  of  diverse  form,  each  bordered 
with  dwarf  box  never  allowed  to  exceed  a  foot,  or  even  less,  in 
height.  The  center  of  the  circle  was  marked  by  a  white  crepe 
myrtle. 

The  beds  were  filled  with  flowering  plants — tea-roses,  Canter- 
bury bells,  hyacinths,  peonies,  tulips,  iris,  violets,  pansies,  lilies 
(including  that  empress  of  the  garden,  the  lihum  auratum),  and 
annuals  of  many  varieties.  Self-sown  cypress  vines  often  flung  over 
the  box  edgings  their  white  and  crimson  stars,  and  heliotrope, 
brought  from  its  winter  pots,  made  the  air  fragrant  from  frost 
to  frost. 

But  the  flower  garden  proper  is  a  small  part  of  the  floral  beauty 
of  the  garden.  Every  vegetable  square  has  its  materialistic  quality 
hidden  by  a  broad  border  devoted  especially  to  the  taller  flowers, 
such  as  delphiniums  and  cosmos — hollyhocks  had  not  then  come 
into  their  own  and  were  over  the  fence  in  an  adjacent  lot — and  to 
flowering  shrubs,  with  every  now  and  then  a  huge,  pyramidal  tree 
of  box.  At  the  intersections  of  the  walks  are  trees  of  pink  and 
of  purple  crepe  myrtle,  the  glories  of  the  garden  during  their  long 
blossoming  season.  The  dear  old-fashioned  shrubs  abound:  lilacs, 
purple  and  white;  spiraea,  calycanthus,  Japan  quince,  snowballs, 
mock  orange,  syringa,  flowering  almond,  white  jasmine,  and  others. 
Frames  held  the  yellow  jasmine  and  microphylla  roses. 

Upon  some  of  the  borders  the  flower  square  seems  to  have 
spilled  over  its  contents,  for  iris,  peonies,  hyacinths,  tulips, 
crocuses,  etc.,  are  to  be  found,  with  phlox,  verbenas,  mourning 
bride,  love-in-a-mist,  nasturtiums,  great  beds  of  zinnias,  and  a  profu- 
sion of  snow-on-the-mountain.  Many  of  these  came  up  year  after 
year  at  their  own  sweet  will,  often  in  most  unexpected  places. 

When  this  garden  was  at  its  best,  there  were  beds  of  pinks 
wafting  their  spicy  incense  to   a   distance   of  many  hundreds  of 

[292] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


yards.  There  were  long  rows  of  Madonna  lilies  gleaming  like 
altar  candles  and  making  the  warm  dusk  of  early  summer  heavy 
with  fragrance.    At  one  of  the  side  gates  was  a  large  bed  of 

"The  naiad-like  lily  of  the  vale 
Which  youth  makes  so  pure  and  passion  so  pale." 

Each  spring  saw  a  row  of  "sweet  peas  on  tiptoe  for  a  flight." 
Clumps  of  yucca  looked  down  upon  the  asparagus,  while  the  taller 
roses  were  everywhere;  the  yellow  Harrison,  beloved  by  the  master, 
and  the  musk-cluster  by  the  mistress  of  the  house,  predominating. 

To  repeat  the  names  of  the  flowers  is  to  have  a  thrill  of  "sweet- 
ness and  light"  beyond  that  of  the  catalogue  of  celestial  hand- 
maidens in  "The  Blessed  Damozel." 

Three  cherry  trees,  a  row  of  incomparable  figs,  others  of  rasp- 
berries, great  beds  of  strawberries,  a  far-flung  Scuppernong  vine, 
a  long  walk  bordered  with  grapes,  each  in  its  season  made  generous 
contributions  to  the  tables  of  neighbours,  as  well  as  to  that  of  the 
owners.  For  all  fruits  possession  must  needs  be  disputed  with 
the  birds,  for  surely  that  garden  was  "the  most  bird-haunted  spot" 
in  the  world.  The  mocking  birds  were  so  tame  that  they  made 
pecking  assaults  upon  the  hats  of  intrusive  humans  who  ventured 
into  the  grape  walk  when  the  fragrant  clusters  were  ripening. 

To  walk  in  such  a  garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  or,  better  still, 
in  the  dewy  morning,  was  to  dream  dreams  and  to  see  visions. 
To  paraphrase  old  Izaak  Walton,  it  was  to  say:  "Lord,  what  joys 
hast  Thou  prepared  for  Thy  saints  in  Heaven  since  Thou  givest 
sinful  man  such  delights  upon  earth?" 

The  adjoining  plantation  of  Ridgeway  had  a  fine  garden  of  un- 
usual size  and  of  great  age,  but  the  frail  health  of  its  owner,  Mrs. 
Paul  Carrington,  had  caused  it  to  fall  into  some  decay  before  the 
plantation  passed  into  other  hands.  The  enormous  growth  of  its 
shrubbery,  the  box  having  become  trees,  gave  it  distinction.  These 
and  its  pleached  walk  converted  it  into  a  pleasaunce,  with  abundant, 
but  subordinate,  flowering  plants. 

[293] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

The  most  imposing  garden  of  that  region  was  the  garden  of 
Mrs.  Winston  Henry.  It  covered  several  acres,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  faultlessly  trimmed  osage  orange  hedge.  It  descended 
to  the  lowgrounds  in  a  series  of  turfed  terraces,  and  displayed  in 
a  variety  of  evergreens  many  specimens  of  topiary  art — the  only 
examples  of  that  art  in  the  neighborhood.  It  was  filled  not  only 
with  hardy  flowers,  but  with  rare  exotics,  housed  during  the  cold 
season  in  a  conservatory  extending  from  the  ground  to  the  third 
story  of  the  mansion.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  Mrs.  Henry 
to  commandeer  from  the  plantation  thirty  men  at  a  time  for  her 
garden,  while  every  drop  of  water  for  the  conservatory  had  to  be 
"toted"  from  a  distant  spring  upon  the  heads  of  negroes.  Demand- 
ing the  labor  which  does  not  now  exist,  this,  the  most  ambitious 
of  the  Charlotte  County  gardens,  has  wholly  vanished,  save  for  a 
few  scraggly  evergreens  and  straggling  plants.  Th^  conservatory 
is  only  a  heap  of  shattered  glass. 

It  is  well  that  these  ladies  of  the  century  past,  feeling  them- 
selves in  the  creation  of  beauty  "workers  together  w^ith  God,"  had 
no  prophetic  vision. 

When  a  cedar  hedge  at  Ridgeway,  having  fallen  into  decay, 
was  destroyed,  an  ancient  "mammy"  mournfully  remarlced:  "I 
hates  to  see  dat  hedge  cut  down.  Ole  Miss  scuflled  and  baffled 
over  it  so." 

Unless  a  new  generation  of  owners  is  inspired  to  carry  on  the 
work  of  their  predecessors,  it  will  not  be  long  before  "Scuffled  and 
Baffled"  is  written  over  many  of  these  gardens  that  hold  the  very 
heart  of  the  old  Virginia. 

It  is  well,  therefore,  to  gather  what  we  may  of  the  loveliness 
and  perfume  of  the  day  that  is  dead. 

Marie  Gordon  Pryor  Rice. 


[294] 


BERRY   HILL 

Halifax  County 

ERRY  HILL,  the  home  of  Malcolm  Graeme 
Bruce,  in  Halifax  County,  is  one  of  the  historical 
places  in  Virginia.  It  first  came  into  possession  of 
the  family  about  1769,  as  shown  in  the  following 
deed: 

This    indenture    made    on    the    day    of 

November  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  one  thousand  seven  hundred 
and  sixty  nine  between  Benjamin  Harrison  of  Berkley  in  the  county 
of  Charles  City  on  the  one  part  and  Isaac  Coles  of  the  county  of 
Halifax  on  the  other  part  witnesseth  that  the  said  Benjamin,  in 
consideration  of  eight  hundred  pounds  current  money  of  Virginia 
to  him  in  hand  paid,  doth  grant  bargain  and  sell  to  the  s'd  Isaac 
and  his  heirs  one  tract  or  parcel  of  land  in  the  county  of  Halifax 
containing  one  thousand  and  twenty  acres  lying  on  Dan  river  and 
bounded  by  the  several  lines  and  boundaries  mentioned  in  a  plot 
and  survey  thereof  made  by  one  Thomas  Jones  of  the  county  of 
Prince  George ;  the  said  one  thousand  and  twenty  acres  being  parcel 
of  a  larger  tract  formerly  the  property  of  the  honorable  William 
Byrd  and  by  him  sold  and  conveyed  to  Richard  Bland  Esqr.  by 
indenture  bearing  date  the  sixteenth  day  of  April  one  thousand 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  one;  to  have  and  to  hold  the  said  tract  of 
one  thousand  and  twenty  acres  with  all  the  appurtenances  there- 
unto belonging  to  the  s'd  Isaac  and  his  heirs  forever,  and  the  s'd 
Benjamin  for  himself  and  his  heirs  doth  covenant  with  the  s'd 
Isaac  and  his  heirs  that  the  s'd  Benjamin  and  his  heirs  the  s'd  tract 
or  parcel  of  land  to  the  s'd  Isaac  and  his  heirs  shall  and  will 
forever  warrant  and  defend.     In  witness  whereof  the  s'd  Benjamin 

[295] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

hath  hereto  subscribed  his  name  and  affixed  his  seal  on  the  day 
and  year  first  above  written. 

Benj.  Harrison.     (Red  Seal) 

Signed,  sealed  and  delivered  in  presence  of: 
Ro.  C.  Nicholas 
Edm'd  Pendleton 
J.  S.  Mercer 

[Endorsement] 
Harrison      | 

to  I       Deed 

Coles  j 

Proved  by  2  Witnesses 
Fully  proved  &  to  be  Reco'd 
Recorded  &  Exe'd 

Virginia  Jet's 

At  a  General  Court  held  at  the  Capital  the  5th  day  of  May 
1770— 

This  Indenture  was  proved  by  the  Oaths  of  Edmund  Pendleton 
and  James  Mercer  witnesses  thereto  and  on  the  seventh  day  of  the 
same  month  the  said  Indenture  was  proved  by  the  Oath  of  Robert 
Carter  Nicholas  Esq.  another  witness  thereto  and  ordered  to  be 
Recorded. 

Teste  Ben  Waller,  CI.  Cor't. 

The  several  hands  through  which  the  estate  passed  from 
Colonel  William  Byrd,  of  Westover,  were  Richard  Bland,  Benja- 
min Harrison,  Isaac  Coles,  the  Bruce  ancestor;  General  Edward 
Carrington,  and  to  his  first  cousin,  James  Coles  Bruce. 

The  original  house  of  red  brick  was  built  by  Isaac  Coles  and 
had  a  garden  enclosed  by  a  brick  wall.  These  were  replaced  by 
James  C.  Bruce  in  1839,  ^^^  ^^e  original  box  hedges,  thirty  feet 

[296] 


leasts* —  vsts^ 

The     Piedmont     Section 

high,  oaks  and  other  trees  remain.  The  grounds  consisted  of  twenty 
acres,  surrounded  by  a  stone  wall,  with  a  lilac  hedge  on  the  inside. 
The  garden  of  ten  acres  required  a  trained  gardener,  and  some- 
times forty  men  were  brought  in  to  keep  it  in  order. 

Mrs.  James  Coles  Bruce,  grandmother  of  the  owner,  was  a 
great  lover  of  flowers,  and  she  collected  foreign  as  well  as  native 
flowers  and  shrubs  for  her  garden. 

Gravel  walks  sixteen  feet  wide  led  through  the  garden  and 
separated  from  each  other  grass  plots  sixty  feet  square.  These 
were  bordered  with  flowers  to  a  width  of  six  feet.  A  large,  round 
bed  marked  the  center  of  the  garden  and  roses  bloomed  all  through 
it — the  moss  and  the  cluster.  Giant  of  Battles,  Shamrock,  micro- 
phylla,  the  Harrison  and  the  Blush. 

Leading  to  the  grounds  was  an  Ailanthus  avenue  one-half  mile 
long.  This  Ailanthus,  or  Tree  of  Heaven  as  it  was  then  called,  was 
an  imported  tree,  not  indigenous  to  the  United  States,  and  was  con- 
sidered very  rare. 

The  pictures  give  a  better  idea  of  the  house  than  I  can,  and 
show  the  beauty  of  proportion,  lines,  and  extreme  simplicity.  One 
wonders  at  the  result  from  a  home  architect.  I  think  my  grand- 
parents had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  the  building  and  no  doubt 
received  help  from  an  intimate  friend  of  theirs,  John  E.  Johnson, 
who  was  noted  for  his  good  taste. 

The  names  of  many  faithful  servants  were  associated  with 
Berry  Hill.  "Uncle"  Aleck,  the  butler,  was  noted  for  his  honesty 
and  strength,  and  never  told  an  untruth.  During  the  War  Between 
the  States,  he  asked  not  to  be  told  where  the  silver  was  buried, 
as  he  could  not  be  unfaithful  to  his  master,  nor  could  he  lie.  And 
when  one  of  the  enemy  stole  his  master's  watch,  this  faithful  servant 
took  it  from  him.  There  were  three  generations  of  butlers  and 
three  of  cooks  at  this  house.  The  cook  during  my  father's  life  was 
very  black  and  claimed  his  ancestor  was  a  king. 

My  grandfather,  though  a  Union  man  at  the  beginning,  had 
four  sons  in  the  Confederate  service,  losing  two  of  them,  so  he  felt 

[297] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

the  war  very  keenly.  When  he  heard  the  enemy  was  approaching, 
he  left  his  home  and  ordered  the  butler  to  fire  the  house  rather  than 
have  it  fall  into  their  hands.  My  father,  Alexander  Bruce,  who 
was  trained  at  the  Virginia  Military  Institute  under  Thomas  J. 
Jackson,  afterwards  General  Stonewall  Jackson,  collected  all  the 
men  at  home  on  leave  or  unfit  for  service  and  held  Staunton 
Bridge,  which  prevented  the  enemy  from  coming  through.  Need- 
less to  say,  when  my  mother  used  to  tell  me  about  it  when  I  was 
a  child,  I  felt  it  was  the  most  Important  battle  of  the  war,  just 
as  I  thought  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Lexington,  Virginia,  the 
largest  in  the  world.  My  grandfather,  James  C.  Bruce,  died  the 
day  Lee  surrendered,  and  said  he  took  a  grim  satisfaction  in  leaving 
the  world  on  the  day  that  meant  the  death  of  his  class.  General 
Merritt,  one  of  the  youngest  Federal  generals,  was  stationed  at 
Berry  Hill  after  the  surrender. 

After  the  war,  my  father,  Alexander  Bruce,  felt  it  would  be 
impossible  to  keep  the  garden  as  it  should  be  kept,  so  he  had  It 
removed,  and  trees  set  out  matching  the  rest  of  the  grounds,  leaving 
only  the  box,  crepe  myrtle  and  other  shrubs,  removing  all  the 
walks  and  flower  beds,  though  my  mother  and  sister  were  in  tears 
at  the  thought  of  having  to  give  It  up.  But  there  still  remain 
quantities  of  jonquils,  hedges  of  box,  and  Interesting  flowering 
trees  and  shrubs.  Many  think  the  place  was  improved  by  removing 
the  garden  and  the  cedar  hedges,  which  divided  the  flowers  from 
the  vegetables;  these  hedges  also  separated  the  vegetables  from 
the  park,  and  the  park  from  the  orchard.  The  pictures  will  give 
some  Idea  of  the  place  as  it  now  Is,  with  the  house  In  the  center  of 
the  park.  In  the  old  garden  were  peonies,  snowballs,  smoke  trees, 
magnolias,  Japan  apples,  flowering  apples,  crab  apples,  jasmines, 
honeysuckles  on  frames,  crepe  myrtles,  dogwoods,  Roses  of 
Sharon,  fringe  trees,  red  buds  and  many  mimosas.  Every  tree 
had  something  planted  beneath  to  come  up  in  the  spring,  such  as 
double    and    single    jonquils,    hyacinths,    snowdrops,    peonies,    or 

"^^^'^^^-  Ellen  Bruce  Crane. 

[298] 


I^TJimS! 


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BERRY   HILL  GARDEN 

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BELLEVUE 


HE  Bellevue  estate  in  Halifax  County,  about  five 
miles  southeast  of  the  Courthouse,  originally  con- 
tained something  more  than  one  thousand  acres. 
It  was  purchased  about  1825  by  John  B.  Carring- 
ton,  a  great-grandson  of  George  Carrington  who 
came  to  this  country  from  the  Island  of  Barbadoes. 
He  was  also  a  grandson  of  Judge  Paul  Carrington  of  Mulberry 
Hill,  member  of  the  House  of  Burgesses,  and  the  Committee  of 
Safety.  Judge  Carrington  was  later  a  member  of  the  Virginia 
Convention  of  1776  which  adopted  the  State  Constitution  and  the 
Bill  of  Rights  and  directed  the  Virginia  members  of  Congress  to 
move  for  independence  from  Great  Britain.  In  1788  he  became 
Judge  of  the  Virginia  Court  of  Appeals. 

The  dwelling  at  Bellevue,  which  was  built  by  a  former  owner, 
is  a  commodious  one  of  brick,  fifty-six  feet  long  and  forty  feet  deep. 
The  rooms  were  about  eighteen  feet  square  and  there  was  an  upper 
and  a  lower  hall  sixteen  feet  wide  running  through  the  house  from 
front  to  back.  The  interior  division  walls  were  of  brick.  The 
front  porch  was  an  impressive  one,  two  stories  high  with  double 
columns  extending  to  the  roof  on  each  side  of  the  entrance  steps. 
On  the  second  floor  was  a  balcony.  There  were  two  back  porches, 
one  at  the  end  of  the  hall  and  the  other  at  the  corner  of  the  house. 
In  the  room  entered  from  the  latter  was  a  large  cabinet  in  which 
were  kept  medicines,  bandages,  etc.,  for  the  farm  hands. 

The  house  was  situated  in  a  grove  of  several  acres  containing 
handsome  oak,  original  pine,  sycamore,  cedar,  holly,  boxwood  and 
mimosa  trees.  The  yard  was  filled  with  shrubs  and  vines  of  various 
kinds.  Back  of  the  "big  house"  and  about  one  hundred  feet  away 
was  the  kitchen  with  its  big  open  fireplace.  A  brick  walk  led  from 
it  to  the  dwelling  and,  if  the  biscuits  were  not  "piping  hot"  wherfc 

[299] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

they  reached  the  dining-room,  there  was  trouble  in  store  for  the 
cook.  Between  the  kitchen  and  the  vegetable  garden  were  three 
important  little  buildings — the  smokehouse,  from  the  rafters  of 
which  hung  a  goodly  supply  of  old  hams  and  bacon,  the  dairy  and 
the  weaving-house  with  a  potato  cellar  under  it.  In  this  house  was 
also  a  room  in  which  were  kept  surplus  supplies  for  the  store- 
room, garden  tools,  a  work  bench  and  carpenter's  tools. 

The  icehouse  was  about  one  hundred  feet  back  of  the  kitchen. 
This  was  a  log  house  built  almost  entirely  underground  and 
covered  with  shingles.  The  inside  was  lined  with  oak  boards  and 
the  building  was  drained  at  the  bottom  to  carry  off  the  water  from 
melting  ice. 

No  well-appointed  plantation  was  complete  without  its  office 
where  all  business  was  transacted.  The  office  at  Bellevue  was  a 
white  two-story  dormer-windowed  little  building  with  dark  green 
outside  blinds.  It  had  three  rooms,  one,  and  sometimes  two  of 
which  were  used  as  overflow  guest  rooms  for  young  men. 

The  entrance  to  the  farm  was  a  hundred  yards  or  more  down 
the  road  from  that  to  the  dwelling.  This  led  to  the  overseer's 
house  and  on  to  the  stable,  granar}^  hay  barn  and  other  such 
buildings.  There  were  also  barns  for  curing  tobacco,  and  log  cabins 
for  farm  hands  were  situated  on  little  knolls  here  and  there  over 
the  farm. 

On  the  right  of  the  dwelling  was  an  old-fashioned  flower  garden 
which  deserves  special  mention.  It  was  square  in  shape  and 
enclosed  on  two  sides  by  a  thick  hedge  of  tall  box-trees;  on  another 
side  by  a  row  of  fig  trees  planted  close  together  and  on  a  third 
side  by  a  white  picket  fence.  In  the  corner  where  the  box  and  fig 
trees  came  together  there  was  an  outdoor  room  made  by  box-trees 
planted  in  a  circle  meeting  overhead  and  trimmed  out  on  the  inside. 
This  made  a  delightful  place  to  read  on  a  summer  morning  and 
enjoy  the  flowers  and  figs.  In  the  center  was  a  circle  of  box  four 
feet  high,  within  which  were  old-fashioned  roses,  and  in  the  beds 
around  this  perennials  and  other  flowers  were  attractively  arranged. 

[300] 


Robert  A.   Lancaster,  Jr. 


The     Piedmont     Section 

A  glance  at  the  spot  where  for  years  the  roses  bloomed  so 
blithely  reminds  one  of  Father  Tabb's  lines  in  his  "Child's  Verse" : 

"There  was  laughter  'mid  the  roses,, 

For  it  was  their  natal  day 
And  the  children  in  the  garden  were 
As  light  of  heart  as  they. 

"There  were  sighs  amid  the  roses 
For  the  night  was  coming  on 
And  the  children — weary  now  of  play — 
Were  ready  to  be  gone. 

"There  are  tears  amid  the  roses 
For  the  children  are  asleep 
And  the  silence  in  the  garden  makes 
The  lonely  blossoms  weep." 

Around  the  ring  of  box  was  a  circle  of  snowball  bushes  with 
the  box  showing  between.  There  were  grass  walks  around  the 
garden  and  from  each  side  to  and  around  the  inner  circle. 

Beyond  the  fig  trees  was  the  vegetable  garden,  In  one  corner 
of  which  was  the  family  burylng-ground.  The  walk  to  this  passed 
along  the  hedge  of  fig  trees.  The  orchard  of  apple,  pear  and 
peach  trees  was  on  the  other  side  of  the  house. 

This  garden  made  a  more  lasting  Impression  upon  the  writer 
than  did  some  of  the  larger  and  more  elaborate  ones  visited  by 
him.  The  fact  that  the  trees  were  laden  with  ripe  fruit  may  have 
accounted  for  this. 

The  property  remained  In  the  Carrlngton  family  for  about 
seventy-five  years,  but  has  since  changed  hands  several  times. 

Robert  A.  Lancaster,  Jr. 


[301] 


BANISTER    LODGE 


K^^^^F 

^s 

HE  situation  of  its  three-thousand-acre  plantation  on 
the  Banister  River,  in  Halifax  County,  gave  to  this 
fine  brick  mansion — built  in  1830 — its  name  of 
Banister  Lodge. 

The  plan  of  the  house  was  simple  and  com- 
modious. An  English  basement  underneath  the 
entire  building,  and  above,  the  usual  four  large  rooms,  two  on 
each  side  of  the  broad  hallway  that  led  to  the  twenty  by  twenty- 
five-foot  dining-room  in  the  wing  at  the  rear.  Rooms  and  hall  on 
the  second  floor  corresponded  in  size  and  design  with  those  of  the 
main  floor. 

The  folding  doors  between  the  parlor  and  library  were  a  novelty 
in  that  part  of  the  State,  and  people  came  for  miles  around  to  see 
them.  On  the  walls  of  these  rooms  hung  pictures,  by  famous 
artists,  of  members  of  the  family  and  connections  of  William  H. 
Clark,  the  owner  and  builder  of  Banister  Lodge.  Amongst  the 
notable  portraits  was  one  of  Patrick  Henry,  who  was  the  grand- 
father of  Mrs.  Clark  (nee  Elvira  Henry).  She  herself  is  repre- 
sented by  a  Sully  portrait,  showing  her  standing  at  her  harp — a 
handsome  instrument  imported  from  London  in   1820. 

Mrs.  Clark  was  an  unusually  brilliant  and  talented  woman. 
At  the  age  of  sixteen,  while  visiting  In  Washington  at  the  home  of 
her  cousin,  William  Wirt,  Secretary  of  State  under  Monroe,  she, 
by  special  request,  played  on  her  harp  at  several  of  the  President's 
levees.  Besides  performing  on  harp  and  piano,  she  also  composed 
music  for  both  of  these  instruments.  Her  artistic  accomplishments," 
however,  did  not  Interfere  with  her  duties  towards  home  and  family, 
as  she  was  a  famous  hostess  and  an  exemplary  wife  and  mother. 

Her  husband,  William  H.  Clark,  was  a  man  of  great  intellectual 
force  and  profound  learning,  and  noted  for  his  active  and  pro- 

[302] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


gressive  spirit.  After  attending  colleges  in  Virginia,  he  completed 
his  education  at  Harvard  University.  His  library  at  Banister 
Lodge,  to  which  he  was  constantly  adding  whatever  was  good 
amongst  new  publications,  numbered  more  than  three  thousand 
volumes. 

Mr.  Clark  gave  his  children  every  educational  advantage,  send- 
ing the  boys  first  to  the  Virginia  Military  Institute,  thence  to  the 
University  of  Virginia,  and  after  that  to  Paris  for  a  two  years' 
finishing  course. 

His  wine  cellar,  stocl<:ed  with  spirits  of  many  rare  vintages, 
was  quite  famous  throughout  the  country.  All  of  its  contents  that 
had  not  been  removed  and  securely  hidden,  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  Federal  troops  who  raided  this  section  in  1865.  As  a  climax 
to  the  revelries  following  their  visits  to  this  cellar,  the  soldiers  re- 
paired to  the  front  of  the  house,  and  demanded  the  presence  of  the 
young  daughters  of  the  family. 

Mr.  Clark,  then  a  white-haired  old  man,  stood  in  the  front  door- 
way, with  outspread  arms  and  flashing  eyes,  as  he  exclaimed,  "You 
will  enter  only  over  my  dead  body!" 

What  the  outcome  would  have  been,  we  can  only  surmise,  as 
response  to  his  challenge  was  averted  by  the  quick  wit  of  Matilda, 
one  of  the  loyal  negro  maids,  and  herself  a  "likely  gal."  Stepping 
forward,  she  addressed  the  foremost  soldiers  in  these  words: 

"Young  mahsters,  y'all  hug  me,  an'  let  de  young  ladies  alone!" 
This  they  proceeded  to  do  in  perfect  good  humor,  but  were  inter- 
rupted by  the  appearance  of  one  of  their  officers,  who  berated 
them  soundly  and  ordered  them  oft. 

The  garden  at  Banister  Lodge  was  designed  by  Mrs.  Clark 
from  her  own  ideas.  It  was  divided  into  nine  sections,  each  of 
which  was  about  one  hundred  feet  square.  Only  one  of  these — 
that  of  the  flower  garden — is  diagramed  here.  The  other  eight 
were  devoted  to  vegetables  and  small  fruits,  but  bordered  by  hedges 
of  white  and  purple  lilac.  The  entire  garden,  except  at  the  front, 
was  hedged  in  by  rows  of  fruit  trees, 

[303] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

The  grounds,  including  the  garden,  comprised  about  one  hun- 
dred acres.  In  the  fourteen  flower  beds  in  this  old  garden  there 
were,  at  the  various  seasons,  snowdrops,  blue  bells  and  violets; 
hyacinths,  tulips  and  jonquils,  with  narcissus  poeticus  for  spring. 
Then  came  larkspurs,  columbines,  lilies,  "old  maid  pinks,"  iris,  prim- 
roses, lilies  of  the  valley,  and  "Fair  Maids  of  February." 

The  shrub  list  included  all  the  old-fashioned  ones — snov/balls, 
forsythia,  pomegranate,  pyrus  japonica,  spiraea,  syringa,  crepe 
myrtle,  honeysuckle,  althea,  wistaria,  yellow  jessamine,  and  the  old 
favorite,  white  "Confederate"  jessamine. 

The  list  of  roses  at  Banister  Lodge  is  both  comprehensive  and 
interesting.  There  were,  first  of  all,  moss  roses,  so  rarely  seen  now. 
The  Maiden's  Blush  grew  along  garden  walks  and  beautified  more 
than  one  bed,  while  Giant  of  Battles,  Marechal  Neil  and  delicate 
tea  roses  followed  on  the  heels  of  the  prodigal  Harrisonia.  One 
whole  bed  was  covered  with  an  arbor  covered  with  running  roses. 

The  front  yard,  which  was  laid  off  with  formality,  was  sepa- 
rated from  the  rear  by  a  hedge  of  tree-box,  probably  thirty  feet 
in  height.  On  either  side  of  the  front  porch,  stood  trees  of  arbor 
vitae  and  boxwood.  Of  the  two  driveways,  one  led  straight  away 
(after  rounding  the  large  circular  center  of  the  lawn)  through  a 
grove  of  magnificent  oaks,  to  the  main  highway;  while  the  other, 
approaching  from  the  stableyard  at  the  right,  swept  around  towards 
the  left  and  back,  through  the  plantation,  to  the  river. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  house  from  the  garden,  and  in  a 
corner  of  the  lawn,  was  a  flower  bed  in  the  form  of  a  large  five- 
pointed  star.  On  the  rear  lawn  stands  one  of  the  largest  oak  trees 
to  be  found  in  Virginia. 

Ethel  Clark  Williams. 


[304] 


7^ 


M':  . 


->'^ 


f^; 


THE  GARDEN   AT 

BANISTER  LODGE 


■1  (  lark  Will 


STAUNTON    HILL 

TAUNTON  HILL  is  situated  in  Charlotte  County, 
about  forty  miles  southeast  of  Lynchburg,  on  the 
Staunton,  really  the  Roanoke  River,  for  the  latter, 
as  John  Randolph  of  Roanoke  once  said,  passes 
for  a  considerable  distance  incog.,  under  the  name 
of  the  Staunton. 
The  tract  of  some  six  hundred  acres,  on  which  the  Staunton 
Hill  mansion  stands,  was  acquired  by  James  Bruce,  in  1803,  and 
was  afterwards  enlarged  by  purchases  of  adjoining  lands,  made 
from  time  to  time,  by  James  Bruce  and  his  son,  Charles.  The 
former  resided  at  Woodburn,  in  Halifax  County,  and  it  was  not 
until  1848  that  the  house  at  Staunton  Hill  was  erected  by  Charles 
Bruce,  on  the  six-hundred-acre  tract  just  mentioned.  This,  with  the 
additions  made  to  it  by  James  and  Charles  Bruce,  in  1896,  the 
year  of  the  latter's  death,  amounted  to  five  thousand  and  fifty- 
two  acres. 

The  mansion  is  built  in  the  Gothic  style  of  architecture  of 
stuccoed  brick  with  towers  and  battlements.  The  front  porch  is 
constructed  of  marble,  which  was  imported  from  Italy  to  Phila- 
delphia. After  being  reduced  to  the  proper  shapes  there,  it  was 
conveyed  by  sea  to  Albemarle  Sound,  and  thence  by  bateaux  up  the 
Roanoke  River  to  the  Staunton  Hill  estate. 

One  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  house  is  the  well-nigh 
perfect  proportion  of  its  external  details.  Extending  back  from 
the  rear  there  is  a  colonnade  about  two  hundred  feet  long.  The 
roof  of  this  is  supported  by  iron  pillars  painted  white,  and  the 
floor  is  flagged  with  large  granite  blocks.  Along  it  are  ranged 
the  kitchen,  laundry  and  service  quarters.  From  the  west  side  of 
the  house  projects  a  conservatory,  and  a  short  distance  to  the  south- 
vrest  of  this  is  a  Gothic  outbuilding  of  five  rooms.    This  is  known 

[305] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

as  the  office,  where  the  business  of  the  plantation,  which  was  worked 
in  three  shifts  by  a  large  force  of  hands  under  three  overseers,  was 
usually  transacted. 

The  mansion  contains  twenty-five  rooms,  three  of  which — the 
front  drawing-room,  the  center  drawing-room  and  the  libraiy — 
constitute  a  suite  of  rooms  which  in  point  of  design,  finish  and 
space  would  compare  favorably,  if  not  more  than  favorably,  with 
any  similar  suite  in  any  of  the  conspicuous  homes  of  the  Virginia 
past.  The  library,  which  is  a  truly  beautiful  Gothic  room,  is 
furnished  with  a  fine  collection  of  standard  books,  mainly  pur- 
chased by  Charles  Bnice  in  London  in  or  about  the  year  1848. 
One  of  the  most  attractive  features  of  the  house  is  its  vestibule, 
with  a  floor  of  black  and  white  marble,  and  supplied  with  niches 
filled  with  classic  figures. 

The  grounds  and  flower  gardens  are  about  eight  acres  in  area 
and  were  laid  out  by  a  Mr.  Kirk,  a  Scotch  landscape  gardener,  at  or 
about  the  time  the  residence  was  built.  Under  his  supervision,  the 
grounds  were  adorned  with  many  varieties  of  trees,  native  and 
exotic,  such  as  the  ash,  the  beech,  the  deodar,  the  cedar  of  Lebanon, 
and  other  species  of  domestic  and  foreign  trees  too  numerous  to 
mention.  Scattered  among  these  are  clumps  of  shrubbery.  As  the 
original  plantings  have  succumbed  to  the  ravages  of  time,  they  have 
been  renewed  with  the  same  painstaking  care  that  marked  their 
origin. 

Equal  skill  and  good  judgment  were  shown  by  Mr.  Kirk  In  his 
scheme  of  grass  plots,  roadways  and  walks,  which  are  fully  worthy 
of  the  extensive  space  over  which  they  are  spread.  The  flower 
garden  is  broken  up  by  a  system  of  judiciously  designed  grass 
walks  into  many  beds  of  varied  shapes.  In  form,  it  is  semi-circular, 
and  environing  the  semi-circle  is  a  dense  background  of  noble  oaks 
and  other  forest  trees.  In  this  garden  a  perpetual  succession  of 
roses  of  different  varieties  has  always  been  maintained  throughout 
the  summer  months,  to  say  nothing  of  many  kinds  of  flowers.  In 
few,  If  in  any,  of  the  old  gardens  of  Virginia  can  be  found  such 

[306] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


a  profuse  and  brilliant  mass  of  crepe  myrtle  as  this  garden  displays 
in  midsummer. 

Outside  of  the  house  grounds  proper  are  stretches  of  park- 
like  woods  enclosed  by  a  stone  wall  between  a  mile  and  a  half  and 
two  miles  long.  This  wall  was  constructed  to  a  great  extent  by 
slave  laborers,  as  were  the  mansion  and  office  themselves.  A  road 
from  the  house,  shaded  on  one  side  by  a  dense  woods,  carpeted 
with  periwinkle,  and  on  the  other  by  elms  and  mimosa  trees, 
leads  over  to  a  peaceful  little  graveyard  surrounded  by  a  stone 
wall  covered  with  English  ivy.  In  another  direction  a  shaded 
path  strikes  off  from  the  grounds  to  a  swimming  pool.  Opposite 
this,  there  is  a  picturesque  walk  known  as  the  "Lovers'  Walk." 
This  begins  in  the  park,  winds  in  and  out  through  the  forest 
bounded  by  the  stone  wall  and,  after  many  detours,  returns  to  its 
starting  point. 

The  mansion  and  some  two  thousand  two  hundred  and  thirt}' 
acres  of  the  original  Staunton  Hill  plantation  are  now  owned  by 
William  Cabell  Bruce,  of  Baltimore,  the  son  of  Charles  Bruce. 


Louise  Este  Bruce. 


[307] 


PRESTWOULD 


m 

^k 

^ 

O  those  of  us  who  spend  our  working  hours  fighting 
to  make  our  glorious  country  "safe  for  Democracy" 
and  our  leisure  in  studying  the  annals  of  the  Court 
of  St.  James,  it  may  be  of  interest  to  trace  the 
lineage  of  the  Skipwith  family  in  Virginia,  from 
Sir  Grey,  who  emigrated  to  America  during  the 
usurpation  of  Cromwell,  to  Sir  Peyton,  founder  of  the  Virginia 
Prestwould,  which  he  named  for  the  ancestral  home  in  Leicester- 
shire County,  England.  And,  in  passing,  it  may  not  be  amiss  tc^ 
call  attention  to  this  oft  misspelled  and  mispronounced  name, 
"Prest-w-o-u-l-d,"  not  "wold"  nor  "wood,"  though  with  the  sound 
of  the  latter. 

Sir  Grey  Skipwith  was  succeeded  by  his  only  son.  Sir  William^ 
who  married  Sarah,  daughter  of  John  Peyton.  His  first-born  dying, 
he  was  succeeded  by  his  second  son.  Sir  William,  from  whom  the 
title  passed  eventually  to  Sir  Peyton.  Sir  Peyton  Skipwith  was 
married  twice;  first  to  Anne,  daughter  of  Hugh  Miller;  and  second 
to  her  sister,  Jean — which  brings  us  to  the  designer  and  presiding 
genius  of  the  Prestwould  Garden. 

But,  first,  a  few  words  in  regard  to  Prestwould  itself.  A  little- 
known  bit  of  history,  which  might  have  been  lost  to  us  but  for  the 
watchful  eye  of  the  Honorable  H.  F.  Hutcheson,  Clerk  of  the 
Court  of  Mecklenburg  County,  Virginia,  follows: 

A  part  of  the  Prestwould  estate  (including  the  three  islands, 
"Saponi,"  "Occaneeche"  and  "Totero"),  was  originally  the  Blue- 
stone  Castle  plantation  owned  by  Colonel  William  Byrd  II,  founder 
of  the  cities  of  Richmond  and  Petersburg,  Virginia.  Indeed,  it 
was  probably  while  visiting  this  plantation  that  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  those  cities,  as  he  writes  in  his  famous  diary,  on  September 
19,  1733:  "After  returning  to  'Bluestone  Castle'  from  a  trip  to  the 

[308] 


HORSESHOE   BCOS  ^         ^  W  1*W>4 


^,:^f«1^^^' 


*Hi|    I 


CUQ.HANTS 


(l  ^        3j  '^         ^    EASPBERRIES  j  j 


r 


?^^5 


f }  y  ^    ptL  i^ae-  _  ^-  SHALLOTS 


>MiTICHOhOES   y        jij        CELERY 


%         'J 


/    ff  J,  GOOSEBERRIES    ",         g 


LANXON 


LETTUCE 


C  '^QM  \T?'"^ 


JUISS  - 


THE  GARDEN 

AT 


PREST WOULD,  VA.    ^  ^ 

fit 


,.Si  4,    _i-^?i£i2Si^_'-" 


From  Garden  Journal  of  Lady  Jean   Skipwith 


The     Piedmont     Section 


islands,  we  laid  the  foundations  of  two  large  cities.  One  at 
Shaccoes,  to  be  called  'Richmond,'  and  the  other  at  the  point  of  the 
Appomattox,  to  be  called  'Petersburgh.'  " 

According  to  family  tradition,  Colonel  William  Byrd  III  and 
Sir  Peyton  Skipwith  were  together  In  Norfolk,  during  a  downpour 
of  rain,  which  continued  steadily  for  several  days.  Being  congenial 
spirits  and  well  supplied  with  the  finest  of  wines,  the  two  gentlemen 
whiled  away  the  time  agreeably,  drinking  and  card  playing,  with 
the  result  that  when  the  skies  finally  cleared.  Sir  Peyton  had  won 
from  his  opponent  the  deed  to  Bluestone  Castle.  In  his  will.  Sir 
Peyton  makes  mention  of  "that  portion  of  my  landed  estate  known 
as  'Prestwould,'  which  I  acquired  of  the  Honourable  William  Byrd 
and  others," 

On  a  commanding  hill  overlooking  the  surrounding  country  for 
miles,  stands  the  massive  "four-square"  house  of  Prestwould,  built 
of  stone  quarried  on  the  place  by  the  family  slaves,  and  from  whose 
river  front  there  is  an  entrancing  view  of  the  Dan  and  Staunton 
rivers  at  their  confluence  with  the  Roanoke.  Between  the  first- 
named  rivers  lie  the  three  islands,  the  center  one  of  which, 
Occaneeche,  was  the  stronghold  of  a  tribe  of  Indians  of  that  name, 
whom  Nathaniel  Bacon  practically  exterminated  in  a  desperate 
battle. 

Approaching  the  house  from  what  is  termed  the  land  front, 
one  drives  through  a  roadway  between  stone  walls  and  leading  to 
the  large  wrought-iron  gate  opening  upon  the  lawn,  whose  most 
noticeable  feature — ^barring  the  house  itself — Is  the  gigantic  oak 
tree,  measuring  twenty-seven  feet  in  circumference,  which  stands 
near  the  northwest  corner  of  the  mansion.  This  tree  Is  said  to  have 
served  as  a  landmark  for  the  Indians,  who  held  powwows  and 
smoked  pipes  of  peace  beneath  its  shadows  nearly  two  hundred 
years  ago. 

Impressive  and  inviting  as  is  the  mansion — furnished  now,  as  In 
Sir  Peyton's  day,  with  probably  the  handsomest  and  most  complete 
collection  of  original  furniture  to  be  found  in  any  home  in  Vir-. 


[309] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

ginia — had  the  question  been  asked  of  a  visitor,  even  within  the 
present  century,  "What  is  the  outstanding  feature  of  Prestwould?" 
the  answer  would  have  been,  unhesitatingly,  "The  garden!" 

As  may  be  seen  from  the  accompanying  plat,  drawn  from  the 
original  in  Lady  Jean's  Garden  Journal,  the  garden  comprised  five 
acres  of  ground  enclosed  by  stone  walls.  Note  the  six  beds,  each 
one  hundred  feet  square,  formed  by  the  intersection  of  the  drive- 
ways which  are  eighteen  feet  in  width.  Four  of  these  beds  were 
devoted  to  vegetables,  herbs  and  "simples,"  as  follows: 

Beginning  with  those  on  the  right  of  the  central  drive  as  one 
enters  through  the  rose  arbored  gateway:  (i)  Gooseberries,  arti- 
chokes, sage.  (2)  Lettuce,  celery,  shallots.  On  the  left:  (3)  Tansy, 
strawberries,  mint.     (4)  Leeks,  raspberries,  currants,  horseradish. 

Of  the  two  beds  containing  only  flowers  and  herbs,  with  insets 
of  grass,  bulbs  predominated,  though  there  was  abundant  space  at 
the  other  side  of  each  bed  given  to  simples.  The  semicircles  repre- 
sent the  Scuppernong  grape  arbors,  underneath  which  the  lily  of  the 
valley  flourished. 

But,  whether  planted  in  choicest  flowers  or  in  prosaic  vegetables, 
each  bed  was  encompassed  by  a  five-foot  border  of  roses  and 
shrubs,  and,  on  the  further  sides,  by  rows  of  fig  and  pecan  trees. 

The  scallops  on  the  plat  represent  horseshoe  beds,  but  whether 
planted  in  bulbs,  annuals,  or  wild  flowers,  is  now  a  matter  of  guess- 
work. Lady  Jean's  Garden  Journal  contains  a  list  of  thirty  or  forty 
different  wild  flowers,  but  no  mention  of  their  location. 

At  the  northwest  corner  of  the  garden,  the  line  of  horseshoe 
beds  was  broken  by  a  conservatory,  twenty-four  feet  in  length,  and, 
near  the  southwest  corner,  by  a  fifteen-foot  bee  house.  Between 
these  same  beds  and  the  driveways  were  the  graveled  walks  and  the 
continuous  borders  of  roses,  shrubs  and  flowers  of  all  varieties, 
while  at  each  corner  of  bed  or  border,  was  planted  a  boxwood, 
which,  in  course  of  time,  and  where  not  kept  in  check,  grew  to  such 
proportions  as  to  merge  completely  with  its  neighbor  across  the 
eighteen-foot  driveway — the  appearance  presented  being  that  of  one 

[310] 


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Don's    Hill.    I'itlsylniiiu,    Couiilv 


The     Piedmont     Section 


immense  tree  instead  of  two,  whose  glossy  leaves  hid  the  secret  of 
the  trunkless  interior.  Upon  parting  the  branches,  one  entered  a 
spacious  vaulted  chamber,  with  walls  and  cathedral-arched  roof  of 
living  green,  and  provided  with  garden  seats  for  prolonged  enjoy- 
ment of  the  sensation  of  having  found  a  new  world! 

By  this  time,  however.  Sir  Peyton  had  been  lying  in  the  ceme- 
tery, at  the  back  of  the  garden,  for  more  than  eighty  years,  and 
Lady  Jean  for  only  twenty  years  less;  the  War  of  the  Confederacy 
had  been  fought  and  lost  and  the  slaves  freed  more  than  two  de- 
cades before,  so  there  were  no  equipages  to  traverse  the  driveways 
and  be  halted  by  the  boxwood  trees  and  other  overgrown  shrub- 
bery— but  we  are  getting  ahead  of  the  story. 

A  list  of  Lady  Jean's  flowers  would  prove  tedious  reading,  as 
it  differs  so  little  from  our  own  lists  of  today.  She  gives  both  the 
botanical  and  the  common  names,  sometimes  followed  by  a  note 
as  to  where  a  specimen  was  obtained,  and  usually  by  comments  on 
the  color,  habits  or  best  mode  of  culture,  as 

"Limodorus  Tuberosum — from  South  Carolina — by  Jim." 

"Bermudiana    (see   Sisyranchium),   the  blue   flowers   with 

grass  looking  stalks  and  leaves — plenty  in  the  orchard." 

"Erythronium,   Dog's  Tooth  Violet — from   Royster's  low 

grounds  and  the  Island." 

.  "Sessile  TriUium,  Liver  coloured  flower  from  the  Point  of 

the  Island." 
"Shrubs  to  be  got  when  I  can: 

Widow- Wail  (see  Cueorum),  a  low  evergreen  shrub  with 
a  small  yellow  flower  easily  raised  from  seed  sown  in 
the  fall. 
Early  Shrub  Anonis  (see  Ononis)  raised  from  seeds  in 
the  open  ground,  very  beautiful,  and  when  once  estab- 
lished gives  no  trouble;  the  seeds  should  be  sown  in 
Sep.  Commonly  called  Kest  Yarrow.  Purple  Shrubby 
i''"  Kest  Yarrow  grows  naturally  on  the  Alps." 


[311] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

"Bulbous  roots  to  get  when  in  my  power: 

Meadow  Saffron  (see  Colchium)  a  bulbous  root  about 
the  size  of  a  Tulip,  flowers  in  Autumn,  and  the  leaves 
continue  green  all  the  winter;  called  by  the  common 
people,  Naked  Ladies.  Great  varieties  may  be  ob- 
tained from  seed." 

"Purple  cupped  Statices  or  Thrift;  dried,^  it  retains  its 
colour,  which  renders  it  ornamental  for  a  Mantelpiece 
in  winter.  A  Biennial,  yet  often  increased  by  parting  its 
roots,  but  more  advantageously  from  Seeds." 

Of  the  Iris  she  lists  at  least  nine  varieties:  "Bulbous  Flag  Iris, 
red  flower;  Dwarf  Flag;  Large  Flag,  or  Flower  de  Luce;  Ever- 
green Purple;  Common  Blue;  Persian;  Florentine  White,  and 
Corn  Flag." 

Amongst  the  Wild  Flowers  she  mentions  eight  varieties  of 
"Solomon's  Seal,  or  Convollaria  Polygonatum."  Also,  "Clay- 
tonia,  little  narrow  leafed  Black  rooted  flower  from  the  foot  of  the 
garden";  "Ixia  Bermudiana,  with  an  Iris  Leaf,  perhaps  the  Black- 
berry Lily  in  the  garden";  "Hibiscus,  American  Retmic,  what  was 
sent  me  by  the  name  of  Holy  Oak,  4th  sort.  6th  sort,  Indian 
Retmic,  I  expect  is  the  flower  Helen  found  at  the  Spring.  Medeota 
Lily,  or  Little  Martagon,  perhaps  what  we  got  by  the  branch  at 
Elm  Hill,  with  the  Whorled  leaves." 

Orange,  lemon,  lime,  oleander  and  dwarf  myrtle  are  listed  with 
others  under  the  head  of  "House  Plants." 

A  "Memo  :  respecting  raising  Trees"  gives  methods  of  propaga- 
tion, from  seeds  and  from  scions,  of  the  poplar,  mulberry,  cedar 
and  holly.  The  directions  for  the  latter,  when  raised  from  seeds, 
ends  with  the  patient  announcement  "They  will  be  large  enough  to 
plant  out  in  four  years"  ! 

Of  Fruit  Trees,  there  is  a  lengthy  and  most  tempting  list,  each 
item  of  which,  where  a  gift  is  followed  by  the  name  of  the  donor: 

[312] 


The     Piedmont     Section 

"Bary  or  Roi  Pear,  the  finest  Pear  in  the  world,  from  St. 

G.  Tucker, 
Newington  Peach,  from  Mr.  Seawell. 
Pound  Pear,  from  Mrs.  Anderson. 
Cluster  Cherry,  ripe  in  May,  from  Mr.  Eppes. 
Mr.  Kennon's  Pear." 

Under  "List  of  Grafted  Fruit  Trees  of  different  kinds  Grafted 
or  planted  at  Prestwould  i6th  March  1792,"  are  many  kinds  of 
cherries,  with  "plumbs,"  nectarines,  quinces,  peaches,  and  an 
"Esopus  Spitzemburg,  a  very  large  red  apple,  reckoned  the  finest 
eating  apple  in  America,  next  to  the  Newtown  Pippin.  From 
St.  G.  T." 

Dated  1807  is  Lady  Jean's  "Memo:  of  the  Seasons  when  the 
different  Fruits  at  Prestwould  are  ripe,  or  fit  to  gather,"  and  from 
it  we  may  judge  whether  or  not  the  seasons  of  the  present  time  are 
different  from  those  of  her  day: 

"May  Cherries,  Duke  Cherries,  and  Strawberries  of  dif- 
ferent kinds,  from  early  in  May  to  the  middle  of  June. 

Black,  White  and  English  Raspberries,  from  the  beginning 
of  June  to  the  middle  of  July. 

Red  and  Black  Currants,  and  Morello  Cherries,  from  the 
middle  of  June  to  the  middle  of  July. 

Red,  White  and  Blue  Plumbs,  from  the  ist  of  July  to  the 
1st  of  August. 

Honey  Pear,  from  the  Island,  about  the  middle  of  July. 

Catherine  Pear,  from  the  Kitchen  Garden,  between  the 
middle  of  July  and  ist  of  August." 

Besides  the  vegetables  in  the  flower  garden,  there  were  many 
in  the  kitchen  garden,  and  more  grown  on  one  of  the  islands,  so 
that,  as  shown  by  old  invoices,  seeds  and  plants  were  ordered  in 
great  quantities.  On  one,  if  not  on  all  of  the  three  islands,  there 
were  orchards  of  peach,  pear  and  apple  trees,  as  well  as  other 

[313] 


wpi — ie>K» 

Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

fruits.     These  were  worked  by  the  slaves,  numbers  of  whom  lived 
on  the  islands. 

Sir  Peyton  himself  seems  to  have  superintended  some  of  the  seed 
planting,  as  we  find,  written  in  his  hand  and  signed  "P.  Skipwith," 
the  following: 

"Memo,  of  Seeds  sown  in  plant-patch  next  to  the  Prize- 
Barn,  beginning  with  the  two  short  beds  nearest  to 
said  Barn." 

One  sighs  for  the  vanished  patience  of  those  days,  of  which  the 
following  heading  to  a  formidable  list  Is  evidence:  "Peach  Stones 
buried  at  Prestwould,  OsCtober  1791."  Amongst  the  stones 
enumerated  we  find  "Sir  Peyton's,  Mostly  August  Plumb;  Mrs. 
Blackbourn's  soft  peach,  ripe  in  September,"  and  many  others. 
Nectarines  and  cherries  were  included  in  the  list,  as  were  "Plumb 
Stones  from  General  Parsons." 

Many  more  subjects  connected  with  the  fragrant  realm  of  Lady 
Jean's  creating  might  be  mentioned;  the  solace  she  sought  in  its 
quiet  depths  during  the  trial  of  Sir  Peyton  on  a  charge  of 
treason,  and  the  receipt  of  the  joyful  news  of  his  honorable  ac- 
quittal; the  octagonal  summer-house  with  its  tinkling  spinet  and 
romantic  associations;  the  hopes  and  aspirations  that  budded  and 
reached  fruition,  as  well  as  those  that  succumbed  to  biting  frosts; 
of  lilacs  that  blossomed  In  the  open  on  the  twenty-seventh  day  of 
October  of  a  certain  year  as  a  bouquet  for  the  first  bride  ever 
wedded  at  Prestwould;  and  of  the  golden-haired  Helen,  Queen  of 
Hearts,  who  led  her  lovers  a  merry  dance  through  the  sunlit  path- 
ways of  her  "Court  of  Love  and  Beauty"  and  flowery  fragrance. 

Therefore,  what  has  been  written  will  be  regarded  by  the  many 
who  have  threaded  its  alluring  mazes  in  the  company  of  Cupid, 
as  merely  a  preliminary  to  the  real  story  of  the  Prestwould  Garden. 

Martha  Feild  Blair. 

Prestwould  is  now  the  property  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  T.  Hughes,  who 
are  restoring  both  house  and  garden  to  their  original  beauty. 

[3>4] 


The   Dan  River 

Near  this   spot   General   Greene   crossed  when  he   retreated   before   Cornwallis 
during  the   Revolution 


The  Box  Hedged  Walk  to  the  Summer  House  at  Dan's  Hill 


DAN'S    HILL 

AN'S  HILL,  situated  in  Pittsylvania  County,  Vir- 
ginia, about  five  miles  from  Danville,  on  the  Dan 
River,  covering  an  area  of  about  sixteen  hundred 
acres,  is  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Wilson  family, 
the  present  owner,  Robert  Wilson  James,  being 
the  fifth  generation  in  direct  descent  to  have 
lived  here. 

The  first  member  of  the  family,  John  Wilson,  settled  here 
during  the  Revolutionary  period,  and  the  present  house,  with  the 
numerous  outbuildings,  consisting  of  stables,  carriage-house,  in 
which  the  old  four-horse  coach  was  kept,  the  weaving-house,  where 
expert  weavers  in  former  days  made  the  homespun  worn  by  the 
house  servants  and  farm  hands,  a  laundry  room,  dairy,  smoke- 
house, icehouses,  kitchen  with  huge  fireplace  in  which  a  person 
could  easily  stand,  and  the  several  log  cabins  for  servants'  quarters 
were  built  by  Robert  Wilson.  These  were  in  course  of  construc- 
tion about  eight  years  and  were  completed  in  1833.  All  of  the 
bricks  used  in  these  buildings  were  made  on  the  estate  and  the 
lumber  was  cut  from  the  native  forest;  both  are  still  in  a  good 
state  of  preservation. 

The  residence  is  a  spacious  three-story  brick  structure  of  the 
Colonial  type,  containing  twenty  rooms,  and  furnished  with  the 
original  mahogany  furniture  placed  there  years  ago.  The  present 
owners,  Robert  Wilson  James  and  his  wife,  who  was  Miss  Irene 
Dwyer,  of  Ohio,  have  recently  installed  in  this  home  all  the  modern 
conveniences,  consisting  of  heat,  electric  lights,  bathrooms,  and  an 
up-to-date  refrigerating  plant,  making  it,  in  addition  to  its  tradi- 
tional charms  and  general  beauty,  one  of  the  most  comfortable 
homes  possible. 

A  fireside  grouping  in  the  drawing-room  shows  the  beautiful 
old  imported  marble  mantel  and  the  brass  fender  and  andirons.  The 

[315] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 


oil  painting  above  the  fireplace  is  a  portrait  of  Robert  Wilson,  the 
builder  of  the  present  home,  and  it  is  interesting  to  know  that  this 
portrait  was  painted  in  the  very  room  in  which  it  hangs.  The 
antique  porcelain  jars  on  either  end  of  the  mantel  complete  the 
picture. 

The  house  is  surrounded  by  extensive  lawns  and  terraced 
gardens,  covering  about  three  acres,  which  extend  to  the  river. 
The  walks  are  bordered  by  wonderful  old  boxwood  hedges  which 
were  planted  when  the  house  was  built.  In  the  gardens  are  some 
very  rare  old  bulbs,  put  there  when  the  gardens  were  originally 
laid  out,  and  which  the  Department  of  Agriculture  at  Washington 
listed  some  time  ago  as  practically  extinct. 

At  the  intersection  of  four  walks  stands  an  octagonal  summer- 
house,  with  massive  brick  columns,  in  a  perfect  state  of  preservation, 
having  already  withstood  the  storms  of  nearly  a  hundred  years — 
a  delightful  spot,  overlooking  the  river,  to  sit  and  muse  on  the 
romances  of  the  crinoline  days.  Near  the  summer-house  is  the 
old  flower-house,  known  in  former  days  as  the  greenhouse,  where 
rare  and  beautiful  flowers  bloomed  the  entire  winter. 

On  the  hills  and  fields  surrounding  the  house  is  a  beautiful 
growth  known  as  Scotch  broom,  which  in  the  late  spring  is  covered 
with  a  golden  bloom.  There  is  an  interesting  old  legend  about  this 
plant.  It  is  said  that  the  seed  were  brought  to  this  country  by  the 
English  during  the  Revolutionary  War  in  the  feed  for  their  horses, 
and  that  wherever  they  camped,  this  Scotch  broom  sprung  up  after 
they  moved  on. 

On  this  estate  is  also  a  very  fine  mineral  spring — the  water 
having  been  analyzed  some  years  ago  and  found  to  contain  medi- 
cinal qualities  rivaling  some  of  the  springs  of  the  most  famous 
health  resorts. 

All  in  all,  Dan's  Hill  is  a  charming  home,  combining  the  dignity 
of  Colonial  days  with  every  comfort  of  the  most  modern  establish- 
ment, and  where  true  Southern  hospitality  is  graciously  dispensed 
by  Robert  Wilson  James  and  his  lovely  wife. 

r   ^^1  Mrs.  Rorer  James. 


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Boxwood  Planted   at   Cfuitmoss  in   1845 


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THE   VALLEY   OF   THE   DAN 

OAK  RIDGE 

AK  RIDGE,  Pittsylvania  County,  Virginia,  about 
ten  miles  from  Danville,  is  owned  and  occupied  by 
Mrs.  Jessie  Wilson  Word  and  Mrs.  Lizzie  Wilson 
Hall.  The  house  was  built  between  the  years  1840 
and  1850,  by  their  maternal  grandfather,  Mr. 
John  Adams,  and  Justina,  his  wife.  Oak  Ridge  is 
splendidly  kept  and  retains  to  a  remarkable  degree  its  pristine 
beauty.  The  only  occupants  are  the  two  widowed  sisters,  who 
manage  personally  and  successfully  their  large  estate — tobacco  being 
the  money  crop. 

The  approach  to  the  house  from  the  gate  is  through  a  wide 
driveway  of  smooth,  white  sand,  on  either  side  of  which  tower  huge 
oaks,  maples,  holly  and  other  varieties  of  our  native  trees,  many 
of  which  are  entwined  with  ivy  and  some  with  wistaria.  The  house, 
which  is  delightfully  spacious,  is  filled  with  rare  and  exquisite  fur- 
nishings, having  the  home  charm  about  them.  The  gardens,  en- 
closed by  a  hedge  of  cedars,  lie  to  the  right  of  the  house  and  must 
be  seen  to  be  appreciated.  The  cedars  seem  to  protect  the  endless 
variety  of  beautiful  flowers,  vines,  shrubs  and  evergreens  which  here 
reach  a  degree  of  perfection  and  loveliness  rarely  ever  seen.  Nut 
and  fruit  trees  also  abound. 

BRIARFIELD 

Briarfield  plantation,  which  is  owned  and  conducted  by  Mr. 
Harden  Hairston,  is  situated  in  Pittsylvania  County,  about  fifteen 
miles  from  Danville,  Virginia.  The  plantation  is  a  very  old  one, 
having  belonged  to  this  branch  of  the  Hairston  family  for  four 

[317] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

generations,  but  no  residence  was  ever  on  same  until  the  present 
house  was  built  in  1902. 

The  development  of  the  Briarfield  Plantation  has  been  very 
unique.  Driveways  were  cut  through  the  primeval  forests  to  the 
site  of  Briarfield  House,  which  stands  on  a  very  high  hill.  This 
hill,  purposely,  has  never  been  cleared.  In  the  very  early  days, 
some  small  houses  were  built  by  "redemptioners,"  who  figured  so 
largely  as  a  sure  source  of  labor  for  our  ancestors.  These  were 
the  planters  of  early  colonization — the  indentured  immigrants  who 
sold  their  time  for  passage  across  the  Atlantic  to  the  new  world. 
On  either  side  of  Briarfield  House  wide  borders  have  been  planted, 
care  being  exercised  to  obtain  the  effect  of  bulbs,  shrubs,  perennials 
and  vines  just  coming  each  season  as  do  the  wild  flowers.  Thus, 
thousands  of  flowers  of  many  varieties  bloom  happily  together, 
creating  a  delightful  departure  from  the  usual  formal  gardens  of 
lawn  and  hedges,  with  designed  flower  beds.  Every  effort  has 
been  put  forth  to  conserve  all  wild  growth,  and  one  can  enjoy  here 
dwarf  iris,  bluettes,  partridge  clutch,  white  and  yellow  orchids,  also 
trees  of  "Dogwood,"  "Sourwood"  and  "Fringe  Tree."  From 
the  southwest  gallery  of  Briarfield  House  a  view  for  sixty  miles 
of  the  Dan  River  Valley  is  a  source  of  endless  joy,  whether  by 
moonlight,  sunlight,  or  in  shade  or  shadow.  The  fertile  lowgrounds 
sweep  out  of  sight  to  the  foot  of  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains,  and 
even  when  extensive  freshets  cover  miles  in  width  the  scene  is  one 
of  great  beauty.  The  money  crop  of  this  plantation  is  tobacco,  and 
at  Briarfield  and  Chatmoss,  together,  about  a  million  tobacco  plants 
are  usually  set  out. 

CHATMOSS 

Chatmoss,  built  in  1850  by  Samuel  Harden  Hairston  and  his 
wife,  Ailsy,  parents  of  present  owner,  is  six  miles  from  Martins- 
ville, in  Henry  County,  on  the  National  Highway. 

The  twenty-acre  lawn  has  a  wonderful  collection  of  native  trees. 
The  garden,  which  is  quite  large,  contains  a  wealth  of  dwarf  box. 

[318] 


i  - 

1     ^ 

M^^i^-J 

'^iitf 

*__ 

Oak  Ridge,  Pittsylvania  County,  the  Wilson  Home 


The  Broad  Garden  W  alk  of  Oak  Ridge 


River  View  from  the  Briarfield  Gardt 


„  _:rtl< 

SflHSSIHHBSHMSflH^^  ^^H 

■'  ^^■^^EliH 

Inj^^b 

|p~"C'"^^ 

1^  <'■'":«#■'-■     J 

wi  •   ■^^■■^ti'^i 

Thornfield,  the   Home   of   Joseph   H.   Sades 


The     Piedmont     Section 


It  Is  said  that  there  are  thirty-six  thousand  linear  feet  of  this  hedge 
in  the  formal  garden  with  tree  box  outside.  Some  of  the  tree  box 
is  over  thirty  feet  high.  Clipping  the  formal  garden  hedges  each 
spring  is  three  weeks'  work  for  six  men. 

THORNFIELD 

Thornfield,  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Scales  family,  Is  about 
twenty  miles  from  Danville.  The  land  was  granted  to  the  first 
owner  by  George  III  of  England,  and  the  original  grant,  signed 
by  the  English  king,  is  still  In  the  possession  of  the  family. 

The  brick  house,  beautifully  situated  upon  an  elevation  that 
overlooks  a  wide  expanse  of  fertile  country,  reminds  one  of  an 
English  country  home.  Handsome  trees,  boxwood  and  shrubs 
abound.     Mr.  Joseph  H.  Scales  now  owns  the  place. 

WINDSOR 

Windsor,  which  Is  owned  and  occupied  by  Mr.  Samuel  H. 
Wilson  and  family,  is  eighteen  miles  from  Danville.  The  house, 
built  about  i860  by  Samuel  Pannill  Wilson,  and  the  servants' 
quarters,  are  of  brick  made  on  the  place. 

This  estate  has  never  changed  hands,  and  as  there  are  several 
sons,  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  name  of  Wilson  will  forever  be 
associated  with  this  attractive  place. 

The  gardens,  which  were  designed  by  a  Prussian  landscape 
gardener,  are  exclusive,  and  many  varieties  of  roses,  bulbs,  peren- 
nials, shrubs  and  evergreens  still  abound. 

One  can  see  flower  beds  of  the  earlier  days,  edged  with  brick, 
and  a  heart-shaped  bed  tells  its  tale,  of  love  and  romance.  Notice- 
able for  their  wonderful  size  and  statellness  are  the  many  boxvvood 
trees,  sentinels  of  the  passing  years. 

Ellen  Wilson  James. 


[319] 


OAK    HILL 

F  one  wants  to  have  a  suggestion  of  "days  befo'  de 
wah,"  then  he  must  see  Oak  Hill,  the  home  of 
Mr.  Samuel  Hairston.  This  solid,  imposing  resi- 
dence, in  its  decided  colonial  outlines,  invites  to  the 
mind  those  happy  reminiscences  of  festive  evenings, 
when  the  old-time  "square  dance"  was  a  delight,  on 
ample  and  mirror-like  floors;  when  there  were  big  crowds,  big 
dinners,  big  suppers,  with  company,  not  just  for  a  few  hours,  but 
overnight  and  all  next  day,  for  the  fox  hunt  often  followed  the 
dance,  and  the  bay  of  dogs  and  the  silvery  ring  of  the  horn  was 
the  recessional  music  of  the  fiddle  and  the  banjo.  Yes,  these 
memories  are  revived  when,  as  might  be  said,  one  stands  in  the 
presence  of  one  of  these  old  homes,  built  in  the  early  eighteens. 
Such  a  residence,  then,  is  this  Oak  Hill,  built  in  1825  by  Mr. 
Samuel  Hairston,  and  now  owned  by  a  descendant  of  the  same 
name  of  the  third  generation.  Situated  right  on  the  crest  of  a  high 
hill,  around  which  the  Danville  and  Western  Railroad  makes  a 
graceful  curve,  and  has  its  trains  to  stop  conveniently  for  the  back- 
door entrance;  with  a  wide  extent  of  level  land  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
to  relieve  or  bring  out  the  boldness  of  its  situation,  there  is  for 
Oak  Hill  a  landscape  setting  rarely  seen.  The  magnificent  oaks  that 
measure  birthdays  by  centuries  are  no  minor  ornaments  from 
nature's  hand,  for  they  flourish  on  all  sides  of  the  house  and  furnish 
a  dense  grove.  The  work  that  nature  has  done  for  Oak  Hill  is  not 
all,  for  architectural  beauty  is  brought  out  in  simplicity  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  house.  It  is  a  brick  structure  of  straight  lines  and 
plain  proportions,  with  colonial  windows  and  porches  with  a  rock- 
laid  walk  from  the  front  gate  to  the  porch,  with  its  accompanying 
boxwood  borders.  Inside  the  colonial  appearance  is  carried  out  in 
the  high  wainscotings,  heavy  doors,  wide  halls,  winding  stairways 

[320] 


V 

""  -  *•■  •     ■''    '  '  .■''"•^' — 

A  Garden  Walk  at  Oak  Hill 


Box    Hedges   at    Oak    Hill 


The     Piedmont     Section 


and  spacious  rooms.  Antique  furnishings  and  oil  paintings  of  one 
Hairston  generation  after  another  further  impress  the  idea  of  the 
length  of  days  that  is  a  heritage  of  this  mansion. 

Other  than  its  situation  and  the  appearance  of  the  residence, 
there  is  another  charm  to  Oak  Hill.  This  is  its  old,  old-time  flower 
garden.  Here-  Wordsworth  would  have  been  at  a  loss  to  have 
worked  into  metre  the  names  of  such  a  host  of  flowers.  The  wind- 
ing walks,  with  their  neatly  trimmed  boxwood  borders,  are  a  strik- 
ing feature,  but  at  every  turn  and  on  every  side  there  are  shrubs 
of  every  name,  and  in  passing  the  blossoms  our  grandmothers  used 
to  love  and  care  for  peep  out  here  and  there;  evergreen  trees 
towering  above  all  furnish  shaded  retreats,  and  a  dreaminess  and 
rest  steals  over  one  as  this  contact  is  made  with  so  much  beauty 
and  fragrance  in  flora's  bower.  A  cedar  house  is  one  attraction; 
a  mammoth  magnolia  tree,  raised  from  seed  brought  from  Florida 
seventy  or  eighty  years  ago,  holds  attention  to  another  point,  but 
the  grove  of  wild  olive  trees  outrivals  all  else  in  interest,  for  it  has 
a  tradition  in  the  supposition  of  having  been  brought  from  the  East 
by  a  tourist  in  the  Hairston  family.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  and 
the  manner  of  growth  are  similar  to  those  of  Palestine,  but  this 
resemblance  is  not  the  only  thing  to  make  them  worthy  of  cultiva- 
tion. Its  resplendent  lustre  of  fern-like  foliage  throughout  the  year 
and  its  lily  of  the  valley-like  flowers  and  beautiful  winter  berries 
make  it  a  prized  evergreen,  as  pretty  and  effective  as  any  for 
decoration. 

This  olive  grove,  magnolia  tree  and  winding  walks  and  oval 
and  square  and  rectangular  flower  beds  are  not  all.  The  view 
from  any  of  its  terraces  of  the  low  ground  stretching  away  right 
to  the  bank  of  the  Dan,  flowing  on  so  slowly  as  if  loath  to 
leave  so  inviting  a  spot,  makes  for  this  garden  an  enchantment 
equal  to  its  own  charms.  Visitors  often  state  that  its  situation  and 
arrangement  make  it  so  beautiful  that  it  must  be  like  the  old  castle 
gardens  described  or  painted  by  novel  writers. 

The  present  Mrs.  Hairston,  nee  Miss  Jopling,  of  Danville,  an 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

adept  in  the  art  of  entertaining,  utilizes  its  adaptability  for  "garden 
parties"  and  teas  in  the  cedar  house,  thus  affording  functions  of 
quaint  and  rare  appointments.  As  a  matter  of  interest,  if  not 
beauty,  is  a  pile  of  brick  in  one  corner  of  this  garden  that  marks 
the  site  of  an  old  schoolhouse.  Here,  with  the  father  of  the  present 
owner  of  Oak  Hill,  "went  to  school"  William  A.  Stuart  and  General 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  the  father  and  uncle  of  Honorable  H.  C.  Stuart. 

A  connection  with  men  of  public  life  is  also  given  to  Oak  Hill 
in  being  the  birthplace  of  the  mother  of  Honorable  S.  H.  Wilson. 
Oak  Hill  is  now  an  up-to-date  farm,  with  the  house  supplied  with 
all  modern  conveniences,  a  side  annex  having  been  built  and  hot  and 
cold  water  supplied.  Arrangements  are  being  made  for  an  electric 
plant  to  be  put  in  to  light  the  whole  place.  The  outhouses  and 
servants'  quarters  are  well  kept  up,  and  a  large,  perfectly  equipped 
dairy  has  been  created,  for  Oak  Hill  is  known  as  a  stock  farm. 
Its  milch  cows  and  Angus  cattle,  Shropshire  sheep  and  Berkshire 
hogs  claim  attention,  as  well  as  its  thoroughbred  saddle  horses. 
This  live  stock  is  well  supported,  for  the  2,000  acres  attached  are 
in  splendid  cultivation.  Corn  yields  from  thirty  to  forty  bushels 
per  acre,  while  wheat  figures  out  from  ten  to  fifteen  bushels.  Large 
quantities  of  hay  are  also  raised.  The  American  field  wire  fencing 
gives  the  plantation  a  cared-for  appearance,  and  in  every  detail 
about  the  farm  Mr.  Hairston,  the  proprietor  of  the  place,  and  one 
of  the  largest  landowners  in  Virginia,  is  characterized  as  a  progres- 
sive and  successful  man  in  his  line  of  business. 

Trinity  Episcopal  Church,  erected  mostly  by  donations  from, 
the  Hairston  family,  is  a  worthy  addition  to  this  Oak  Hill  estate. 
Regular  services  are  held  once  a  month,  as  is  the  custom  of  country 
churches,  and  a  large  Sunday  school,  composed  mostly  of  tenants' 
children,  meets  every  Sunday,  with  Mr.  Hairston  as  its  superin- 
tendent. 

Near  Oak  Hill  is  Berry  Hill,  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Hair- 
stons,  and  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  the  several  estates 
owned  by  various  members  of  that  family,  so  prominent  as  land- 

[322] 


The     Piedmont     Section 


holders  and  slave-owners  before  the  war.     Mr.  Hairston,  of  Oak 
Hill,  has  in  his  possession  a  grant  from  George  III. 

The  obsolete  appearance  of  Berry  Hill  gives  it  distinction.  It 
is  used  as  a  tenant's  dwelling,  being  typically  colonial  in  size  and 
arrangement,  and  brings  up  the  household  plans  of  other  cenUiries, 
so  inadequate  for  modern  conveniences.  Berry  Hill  is  noted  as 
being  one  of  the  oldest  places  in  the  Garden  of  Eden.  The  Hair- 
ston burying-ground  is  at  Berry  Hill,  and  the  graves  of  many 
generations  are  marked  at  that  place. 


[323] 


BERRY    HILL 


Pittsylvania  County 

ERRY  HILL,  Pittsylvania  County,  is  one  of  the 
Colonial  places  of  Virginia,  probably  the  oldest 
place  equally  far  inland.  It  was  the  home  of  the 
Hairston  family,  who  originally  inherited  it  from 
the  Perkins',  into  which  family  the  Hairstons' 
ancestors  married.  It  has  never  been  sold,  but  has 
passed  down  from  the  original  grant  from  the  King  of  England 
only  by  successive  wills  for  about  three  hundred  years,  and  is  now 
the  property  of  Mrs.  Ruth  Hairston  Sims,  who  inherited  it  from 
her  great-grandmother.  It  is  located  on  Dan  River,  in  Pittsyl- 
vania County,  Virginia,  and  Rockingham  County,  North  Carolina, 
and  happens  to  be  at  the  point  where  the  Colonial  army,  under 
General  Greene,  crossed  this  river  in  his  famous  strategic  retreat 
before  the  army  of  General  Cornwallis  after  the  battle  of  Guil- 
ford Courthouse. 

After  effecting  the  crossing  of  Dan  River  under  great  difficulty, 
General  Greene  camped  his  army  on  the  river  bank,  where  he  pre- 
pared to,  and  did,  offer  resistance  to  his  pursuers.  The  heavy 
rains  under  which  this  crossing  was  effected  caused  the  river  to  rise 
abnormally  and  cover  the  extensive  bottom  lands,  forcing  General 
Greene's  army  to  move  back  on  the  flat  land.  Cornwallis'  forces 
drew  up  on  the  bluff  on  the  right,  or  south,  bank  of  Dan  River, 
from  where  his  artillery  opened  fire.  The  Berry  Hill  house,  in 
which  General  Greene  had  taken  up  his  headquarters,  overlooked 
this  crossing  and  battlefield,  and  in  the  cannonading  the  old  outside 
chimney  that  served  General  Greene's  room  was  struck  but  not 
wholly  destroyed,  and  was  later  successfully  repaired. 

There  has  been  some  controversy  as  to  the  exact  spot  on  Dan 
River  at  which  General  Greene's  crossing  was  effected,  but  this  was 
finally   settled    in    1896    when    the    unprecedented    severe    freshet 

[324] 


The     Piedmont     Section 

covered  the  entire  bottom,  washing  the  land  and  exposing  not  only 
the  smoked  stones  that  had  been  used  around  the  campfires  of 
General  Greene's  soldiers,  but  the  remains  of  some  of  the  old 
revolutionary  muskets,  as  well  as  bullets,  bullet-moulds  and  lead. 
Incidentally,  the  fact  that  these  pieces  of  equipment  were  left,  would 
indicate  that  the  retreat  of  General  Greene's  men  to  the  higher  flat- 
land  adjoining  the  bottoms  was  due  to  fire  from  across  the  river 
as  well  as  to  the  rising  water.  The  high  water  that  occurred  at 
this  time  evidently  buried  these  articles,  and  succeeding  freshets 
covered  them  deeper  and  deeper,  until  they  were  between  three  and 
four  feet  under  ground.  The  successive  layers  of  this  covering 
were  clearly  discernible  when  the  freshet  of  1896  scoured  the  land 
away  down  to  the  original  level  of  the  date  of  General  Greene's 
crossing. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  remark  that  at  the  time  of  General 
Greene's  crossing  the  land  on  which  he  camped  was  a  clover  field. 
This  fact  was  evidenced  from  the  circumstance  that  after  this  three 
to  four  feet  of  earth  was  washed  away  the  land  soon  became 
covered  with  clover,  sprouted  from  the  seed  that  had  lain  buried 
for  over  a  century — incidentally  proving  that  the  seeds  of  some 
plants  retain  their  vitality  indefinitely  if  sufficiently  far  under  the 
surface  of  the  soil. 

The  original  house  was  made  entirely  of  hewed  lumber,  even 
the  flooring  having  been  made  of  puncheons  split  out  of  logs  from 
the  original  forest.  Some  of  these  puncheons  are  still  in  place. 
The  oldest  part  of  the  house  was  added  to  some  time  before  the 
Revolutionary  War.  The  laths  were  rived,  and  the  nails  used  to 
fasten  them  were  made  one;  by  one,  by  hand,  in  a  blacksmith  shop. 
Grass  was  used  as  a  binder  for  the  plaster.  In  about  1806  the  so- 
called  "new  part"  was  added.  The  gable  end  of  this  part,  with 
the  outside  chimney,  is  shown  in  one  of  the  views  of  the  north  side 
of  the  house.  The  last  addition,  which  is  shown  with  the  porch 
extending  around  it,  was  made  by  the  present  owner  in  19 11. 

On  the  west  side  of  the  house  is  the  garden,  which  is  still  sur- 

[325] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

rounded  by  its  ivy-covered  stone  wall.  The  eight  beds  composing 
this  garden  are  each  surrounded  with  the  dwarf  variety  of  boxwood, 
much  of  which  is  now  over  six  feet  high.  Of  this  boxwood  hedge 
there  is  almost  a  half  mile.  To  the  west  of  the  garden  adjoining 
it  is  the  old  Hairston  family  cemetery. 

The  summer-house  is  built  of  hewed  locust  and,  though  small, 
yet  picturesque,  is  one  of  the  older  structures,  though  its  exact  age 
is  not  known.  It  is  known,  however,  that  about  1840  the  then 
older  members  of  the  Hairston  family  were  at  that  time  speculating 
as  to  what  previous  ancestor  had  built  it, 

Alfred  Varley  Sims. 


[326] 


The  Valley  of  Virginia 


FOLLY 


OLLY,  in  Augusta  County,  is  the  residence  of 
Joseph  Smith  Cochran.  The  house,  now  in  its 
second  century,  was  built  by  Joseph  Smith,  the 
great-grandfather  of  the  present  owner,  and  has 
been  occupied  by  four  successive  generations. 
Following  the  architectural  style  of  its  day,  the 
dwelling  is  of  red  brick  with  large  white  pillars  on  the  front  and  side 
porches.  At  that  time  there  were  no  railroads  in  the  Valley,  so 
the  farm  wagon  was  sent  to  Philadelphia — 300  miles  away — to 
get  the  finishing  touches  for  it.  The  marble  mantelpieces  in  the 
drawing-room  and  the  dining-room  were  the  first  to  come  into  the 
Shenandoah  Valley. 

Coming  down  to  the  western  side  of  the  garden  and  overflowing 
onto  the  lawn  is  the  forest  primeval.  This  piece  of  woods,  extend- 
ing for  a  mile,  resembles  a  park;  with  its  handsome  oaks,  hickory, 
chestnut,  and  walnut  trees,  free  from  undergrowth,  it  affords  shady 
and  interesting  walks  and  drives  in  the  summer-time,  reminding  one 
of  an  English  estate  with  its  extensive  grounds. 

Facing  the  house,  and  at  the  end  of  the  avenue,  is  a  rocky, 
wooded  slope.  In  olden  times  this  was  enclosed  by  a  high  fence, 
and  was  known  as  the  deer  park.  In  it  roamed  and  bounded  from 
rock  to  rock  twenty-odd  deer.  They  were  so  gentle  that  they  would 
come  up  to  their  mistress  to  be  fed,  and  would  lick  out  of  her  hand. 
Sometimes  she  would  let  down  the  bars  and  they  would  follow 
her  up  to  the  house,  playing  about  the  lawn.  This  deer  park 
extended  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  along  the  Staunton  and  Lexington 
turnpike,  and  travelers  passing  by  in  stage-coaches  and  private 
vehicles  would  stop  to  admire  the  deer  and  watch  the  little  fawns 
play  on  the  soft  moss.  Finally,  thoughtless  people  would  put  their 
dogs  over  the  fence  to  watch  them  chase  the  deer,  and  many  a 

[329] 


»a«8> isftt^ 

Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

beautiful  animal  lost  its  life.  This  so  grieved  their  young  mistress, 
that  she  begged  to  have  the  fence  pulled  down  and  let  them  return 
to  their  mountains. 

An  unique  feature  of  the  garden  is  a  red-brick  serpentine  wall, 
extending  around  three  sides  of  it.  There  is  said  to  be  only  one 
other  of  Its  kind  in  the  State,  and  that  is  the  one  at  the  University 
of  Virginia,  another  English  Idea  brought  here,  as  If  the  flowers 
needed  the  protection  of  a  brick  wall  to  keep  off  cold  winds.  Tradi- 
tion says  that  after  a  time  our  great-grandfather  realized  the  folly 
of  so  much  brick  wall  and  said  the  place  was  to  be  called  "Folly." 

In  this  old  garden  roses  have  always  flourished.  Beginning 
with  the  burr  rose  or  pink  microphylla,  which  grew  In  a  huge  bush, 
the  cinnamon  rose,  the  hundred-leaf  rose,  the  seven  sisters  (a  climb- 
ing rose),  the  Persian  yellow,  the  red  Giant  of  Battles,  the  Pink 
daily,  the  Hermosa,  and  the  Souvenir  de  Malmalson,  On  one  side 
of  the  front  porch,  and  trained  up  on  the  banisters,  grew  a  white 
microphylla;  on  the  other  side  a  Maiden's  Blush  rose;  and  on 
the  corner  of  the  house  climbing  to  the  very  eaves  was  a  vigorous 
single  pink  cluster  rose,  called  by  us  the  Kentucky  rose.  We  must 
not  forget  the  pink  damask  rose,  so  dellclously  sweet  that  Its  petals 
are  used  for  pot-pourri  or  sprinkled  In  the  linen  closet.  It  Is  from 
this  rose  that  the  attar  of  rose  perfume  is  made  In  Eastern  coun- 
tries. These  old-time  roses  are  now  supplemented  by  the  ramblers, 
which  luxuriantly  cover  the  pergola  with  their  profusion  of  bloom. 

The  lilac  and  snow-ball  bushes — especially  one  white  lilac — 
have  grown  so  large,  they  can  no  longer  be  called  anything  but  trees, 
which  are  about  fifteen  feet  high.  Once  the  glory  of  the  garden 
was  a  Persian  lilac;  when  in  bloom  it  was  a  feathery  mass  of  rosy 
lavender  blossoms  with  the  most  fascinating  fragrance,  a  sight 
never  to  be  forgotten !  The  flower  border  follows  the  graceful 
curves  of  the  serpentine  wall,  making  charming,  wavy  masses  and 
sweeps  of  colour  the  entire  extent  of  the  wall.  Driving  up  to  the 
front  gate,  hollyhocks,  peeping  over  the  wall,  greet  one  in  every 
variety  of  colour.     Later  on  In  the  season  golden-glow  extends  a 

[330] 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 

welcome — sunflowers,  hardy  asters,  and  cosmos  following  In  suc- 
cession. 

The  present  chatelaine  of  Folly  keeps  up  the  old  family  tradi- 
tions and  finds  the  same  joy  in  her  garden  as  her  predecessors;  it 
grows  and  flourishes  under  her  loving  care. 

We  come  in  from  the  restless  world  to  the  quiet  retreat  of 
this  old  garden,  and,  as  we  sit  beneath  its  grand  old  trees,  we  dream 
of  the  days  of  old. 

Memory  brings  to  mind  many  a  fair  young  girl  and  brave  young 
man  wandering  out  in  the  land  of  romance  and  learning,  with  the 
birds,  the  first  love-twitterings.  They  have  all  scattered  far  and 
near,  many  of  them  making  the  history  of  this  fair  land;  but  the 
enjoyment  of  this  flower  garden  forever  remains  impressed  upon 
their  minds. 

Another  picture — a  sad  one — comes  down  the  years.  It  is  of 
the  turbulent  days  of  1864.  General  Sheridan  had  made  his  ter- 
rible raid  up  the  Shenandoah  Valley  and  had  sent  General  Hunter 
on  to  Lexington  to  burn  the  Military  Institute.  As  his  army 
passed  by  Folly,  on  a  bright  summer's  day,  the  ladies  were  seated 
out  under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  anxiously  watching.  A  horseman 
was  seen  dashing  up  the  avenue;  he  hitched  his  horse  at  the  front 
gate  and  walked  in.  He  was  an  officer  from  the  Federal  army,  and 
asked  for  some  refreshment.  Mrs.  Cochran  sent  her  servant  for 
the  meagre  supply  on  hand  and,  as  they  were  sitting  with  their 
backs  to  the  forest,  they  were  startled  by  a  ringing  command, 
"Surrender !"  Looking  around,  at  the  back  gate,  they  saw  mounted 
on  his  horse,  a  young  Confederate  scout.  "Hold  up  your  hands," 
he  said  to  the  officer,  and  aside  to  a  young  lady,  a  sister  of  Mrs. 
Cochran,  he  bade  her  lead  out  the  ofl'icer's  horse.  She  bravely  went, 
but  it  was  an  ordeal,  for  the  horse  was  large  and  spirited,  and  she 
a  tiny  frail  little  body.  But  through  main  force  of  will  she  brought 
the  steed  to  the  back  gate.  The  officer  mounted,  and  with  all  haste 
they  disappeared  in  the  woods.  This  daring  and  reckless  scout 
was  John  Opie,  afterwards  Captain  Opie.     He  succeeded  in  con- 

[331] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

cealing  himself  and  his  prisoner  in  some  cedar  thickets  and  remained 
there  all  night,  having  tied  the  officer  to  his  arm,  lest  he  should  drop 
off  to  sleep  and  his  prisoner  escape.  The  next  day  when  the 
Federal  army  had  passed  on,  he  took  him  across  to  Waynesboro 
and  delivered  him  to  the  Confederate  Army. 

In  the  meantime  the  capture  had  been  witnessed  by  the  passing 
troops  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  lawn  swarmed  with  soldiers.  A 
number  of  them  went  in  hot  pursuit  of  their  officer,  but  in  vain. 
The  soldiers  said  that  if  it  were  Colonel  Cochran  who  had  taken 
the  prisoner  they  would  burn  the  house  and  destroy  everything  on 
the  place.  The  frightened  women  were  called  out  and  testified  most 
earnestly  that  Colonel  Cochran  was  away  with  the  Gray  Army,  and 
knew  nothing  of  the  capture.  No !  The  men  would  not  believe 
them  until  the  family  Bible  was  brought  out  and  all,  including  the 
servants,  were  made  to  place  their  hands  on  it  and  swear  that  it  was 
not  Colonel  Cochran.  One  stalwart  young  slave,  Grandison  Ware, 
by  name — he  was  a  mulatto  but  looked  more  like  an  Indian  war- 
rior— stepped  behind  his  young  mistress  and  whispered  low,  "Don't 
you  be  skeered.  Miss  Lizzie,  I  done  brung  my  axe  and  I'm  gwine 
use  it,  too,  if  these  Yankees  do  any  harm."  And  he  stood  with 
his  axe  in  his  hand  until  the  last  blue-coat  had  disappeared. 

The  next  morning  as  John  Opie  was  taking  his  prisoner  to  the 
Confederate  camp,  he  passed  by  Woodland,  an  adjoining  estate, 
and  seeing  the  young  daughter  of  the  house  seated  on  the  porch, 
he  called,  "Here,  Bettie,  take  this  officer's  sword  and  keep  it  for 
me.  If  I  am  killed  it  is  yours,  but  surviving  I  will  return  for  it 
when  the  war  is  over."  Bettie  Eskridge  took  the  sword  and  car- 
ried it  up  into  the  garret;  she  prized  a  plank  from  the  floor  and 
put  the  sword  underneath,  then  carefully  nailed  the  board  back  in 
place.  There  it  lay  undisturbed  until  the  war  was  over.  Captain 
Opie  returned,  got  the  sword  and  sent  it  North,  to  Captain  John- 
son, the  captured  officer,  who  had  been  on  General  Crook's  staff. 
The  handsome  sword  was  engraved  with  his  name,  and  "Presented 
by  the  Ladies  of  Philadelphia." 

[332] 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 

The  old  cedar  tree  standing  by  the  fence  could  have  told  a  tale ; 
for  in  its  closely  clipped  branches  were  a  lot  of  dried  beef  tongues. 
At  the  very  last  minute  they  were  discovered  in  the  smokehouse, 
the  army  was  in  sight,  and  they  were  hurriedly  pitched  into  the 
cedar  tree  for  safe  keeping.  To  a  casual  observer,  they  were  only 
brown  leaves  drifted  down  from  the  oak  tree. 

When  the  news  came  that  the  Northern  Army  would  pass  Folly 
the  next  day,  Mrs.  Cochran  got  up  in  the  wee  sma'  hours  of  the 
night,  and  waked  her  housekeeper.  The  two  silently  collected  all 
the  silver,  including  the  service,  basket  and  spoons,  brought  over 
from  England,  put  it  all  into  a  wooden  box  and  between  them 
carried  it  down  into  the  garden.  They  dug  a  hole  in  the  soft  earth 
of  the  asparagus  bed  and  buried  it.  What  was  their  joy  the  next 
morning  to  find  it  pouring  down  rain,  thus  obliterating  all  trace 
of  freshly-dug  earth. 

These  and  many  other  old  tales  are  brought  to  light  only  for 
the  sake  of  history  and  to  tell  to  our  children  and  grandchildren. 
Time  has  so  mellowed  the  recollections  that  they  seem  a  part  of  a 
dream,  but  enhance  the  human  interest  of  this  old  garden. 

Annie  Cochran  Rawlinson. 


[333] 


CARTER    HALL 


[^^^ 

^^^^ 

HERE  was  a  time  when  our  place-names  in  this 
country  were  either  pure  Dutch,  pure  French,  pure 
Spanish  or  pure  English,  and  we  had  not  yet 
to  tack  on  a  German  burg  or  a  French  ville  to  a 
simple  English  word.  The  little  village  of  Mill- 
wood was  named  at  that  time,  and  quite  properly 
named,  as  it  grew  up  about  two  stone-built  water-power  mills  set 
in  a  great  wood.  The  land  upon  which  the  village  stood  (with  the 
exception  of  a  few  freehold  lots)  and  all  the  surrounding  land  was 
owned  by  Colonel  Nathaniel  Burwell,  a  young  man  from  the  Lower 
Country,  as  it  was  then  called.  Though  he  still  lived  at  Carter's 
Grove,  the  Burwell  seat  on  the  James  River,  he  usually  brought  his 
family  to  spend  the  summer  in  the  cooler  and  more  healthful 
climate  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  At  such  times  he  occupied  a 
house  which  still  stands  in  Millwood  today. 

But  in  1790  Colonel  Burwell  began  to  build  a  permanent  home 
upon  this  large  land — a  holding  of  his  in  what  is  now  the  County 
of  Clarke.  The  situation  chosen,  like  that  of  each  of  the  old 
houses  hereabouts,  was  of  necessity  near  a  good  spring,  and  hun- 
dreds of  oaks  had  to  be  cut  away  for  the  building  site  and  to  open 
vistas  over  the  surrounding  country;  that  to  the  south  offering  a 
view  of  the  Blue  Ridge  from  each  of  the  principal  rooms  of  the 
house,  and  that  to  the  east  showing  the  mountains  still  nearer,  and 
allowing  one  to  trace  the  course  of  the  Shenandoah  by  the  white 
trunks  of  the  sycamores  along  its  banks.  This  cutting  still  left  a 
fine  body  of  oak  and  walnut  timber  extending  from  the  north, 
through  west,  to  the  southwest  of  the  house.  Sad  to  say,  the  trees 
are  much  fewer  in  number  today,  though  there  are  still  enough 
to  form  the  western  border  of  the  park. 

It  was  under  these  oaks  that  General  Pickett  camped  just  after 

[334] 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 


Gettysburg.  Under  a  very  large  black  walnut  tree  General  Jack- 
son had  his  headquarters  in  the  fall  of  1862,  and  here  his  meals 
were  brought  to  him  by  a  son  of  Carter  Hall,  who  still  remem- 
bers seeing  the  General  seated  at  a  pine  table  reading  his  Bible. 
He  also  remembers  the  gallant  Stuart  as  he  dashed  up  and  dis- 
mounted for  a  consultation  with  his  senior  officer.  General  Jackson 
had  declined  an  invitation  to  make  his  headquarters  in  the  house  at 
Carter  Hall  upon  the  ground  that  the  tramp  of  soldiers'  boots  and 
the  constant  arrival  and  departure  of  couriers  would  disturb  the 
ladies. 

And  it  was  in  a  room  that  looks  out  on  these  old  trees  that  there 
had  died  many  years  earlier — in  18 13 — a  friend  of  Colonel  Bur- 
well's,  Edmund  Randolph,  Aide-de-Camp  to  General  Washington, 
and  later  Governor  of  Virginia,  first  Attorney-General  of  the 
United  States  and  Secretary  of  State. 

To  the  southeast  of  the  house  lies  another  little  wood,  left 
perched  upon  that  bluff  from  the  foot  of  which  the  great  spring 
gushes;  these  trees,  except  for  the  scythe  of  Time,  are  as  they  have 
been  for  longer  than  the  short  century  and  a  quarter  since  the 
house  was  built.  It  is  in  another  part  of  this  same  bluff  that  there 
is  a  cave  about  which  many  legends  cluster,  as  they  do  about  the 
whole  place.  But  there  Is  only  space  to  mention  the  fact  that  this 
cave  is  the  real  home  of  the  ghost. 

Unlike  most  ghosts,  this  one  has  a  scientific  reason  for  being. 
Often  enough,  even  to  this  day,  a  coach  may  be  heard  to  rumble 
up  to  the  portico  of  the  house  and  the  old-fashioned  folding  steps 
may  be  heard  bumping  down  as  they  are  unfolded.  It  is,  of  course, 
very  probable  that  the  cave  extends  under  the  house  and  on  to  the 
west  until  it  passes  beneath  the  highway.  Certain  it  is,  that  the 
road  sounds  queerly  hollow  at  a  certain  point,  and  the  unbelieving 
maintain  that  the  sound  of  the  coach  is  only  that  of  a  truck  or  a 
wagon  passing  over  "the  hollow  place"  in  the  highroad,  and  that 
the  sound  is  carried  by  the  cave  to  the  earth  under  the  house  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

[335] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

This  house  that  Colonel  Burwell  built  extends,  east  and  west,  for 
a  hundred  and  ninety  feet — an  arrangement  that  allows  the  winter 
sun  to  pour  in  and  the  summer  breeze  to  sweep  through  from 
south  to  north.  To  the  east  and  to  the  west  of  the  main  build- 
ing are  the  offices;  that  on  the  west,  besides  having  extra  bed- 
rooms, was  also  used  "befo'  de  war"  as  a  school-house.  Here  the 
tutor  to  the  children  of  the  Burwell  family  instructed,  in  addition, 
the  young  people  from  the  neighboring  estates,  all  of  whom  were 
cousins  of  one  degree  or  another.  One  of  the  boys  was  William 
Meade,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Virginia.  The  building  to  the  east  of 
the  main  house  afforded  rooms  for  those  servants  who  did  not  live, 
as  the  others  did,  at  the  quarters;  it  also  contained  the  laundry 
with  its  flagged  floor  and  ten-foot  fireplace,  its  brick  ovens  and 
its  crane. 

Though  these  offices  are  two  stories  in  height,  the  east  wing  of 
the  main  building  has  only  one  story,  over  which  is  a  very  low 
gable.  It  was  in  this  pitch-black  little  space  above  the  ceiling  that 
the  family  silver  was  successfully  hidden  throughout  the  War  Be- 
tween the  States — successfully  hidden  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
place  was  not  only  near  that  center  of  fighting,  the  town  of  Win- 
chester, but  also  directly  on  the  highway  between  Winchester  and 
Manassas.  Time  and  again,  it  was  used  as  the  headquarters  of 
one  army  or  the  other.  General  Merritt,  during  his  stay,  having 
slept  on  a  sofa  now  standing  in  the  hall. 

Another  occupancy  by  Union  troops  was  more  uncomfortable. 
This  was  the  visit  paid  the  house  by  "Blenker's  Dutch."  It  is  be-, 
lieved  that  they  were  not  Dutch,  but  Germans.  At  any  rate,  they 
could  speak  no  English  and  maintained,  truly  or  not,  that  they 
could  understand  none.  Unfortunately,  soon  after  their  arrival 
they  broke  into  the  wine  cellar,  got  very  drunk  and  made  things 
unpleasant,  if  not  actually  dangerous,  for  members  of  the  family, 
who  then  included  Mr.  George  H.  Burwell,  first,  well  advanced  in 
years  and  almost  entirely  blind,  his  little  son,  and  various  ladies. 
The  harm  went  no  further,  as  it  happened,  than  frightening  the 

[336] 


a  KITCHEN   GAR.D&N    J 


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Warren    H.   Wanning 


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GAK.D&N    AT 

CARTER  HALL 
- A^ 


^p.^ 


I 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 


ladles  by  much  yelling,  the  smashing  of  glass  and  china  upon  the 
floor,  and  the  parading  through  the  house  with  certain  articles  of 
feminine  apparel  waving  at  the  end  of  rifle  and  sabre.  The  timely 
arrival  of  a  Union  officer  of  American  birth  stopped  all  this,  and 
a  guard  was  stationed  by  him  about  the  house  to  protect  the  family. 

One  other  occupancy  of  the  house  by  Union  troops  must  be 
mentioned,  because  it  has  to  do  with  the  garden.  There  stands 
under  one  of  the  southern  windows  of  what  was  then  "the  chamber" 
a  very  large  bush,  and  near  it  grows  a  trumpet  vine.  When  the 
soldiers  arrived  this  time,  Mrs.  Burwell,  from  the  window  above, 
dropped  into  this  bush  a  sword  that  had  belonged  to  her  elder  son, 
Nat,  who  had  been  killed  at  the  Second  Battle  of  Manassas.  Her 
other  son,  then  a  boy,  owned  some  bantam  hens  and,  as  all  the 
large  poultry  had  been  killed  or  carried  off,  the  soldiers  turned 
their  attention  to  the  bantams.  Some  of  these  little  fowls  ran 
under  the  bush  to  escape  capture  and  the  soldiers  after  them. 
Sad  to  say,  when  the  pursuers  emerged  they  had  not  only  the 
bantams,  but  the  sword,  which,  of  course,  they  carried  away. 

This  bush  is  one  of  a  great  many  old  shrubs,  principally  lilac 
and  mock-orange,  that  are  still  hale  and  hearty.  Scattered  about 
under  them  and  through  the  grass  of  the  garden  are  hundreds, 
perhaps  thousands,  of  daffodils,  as  well  as  a  few  poet's  narcissus 
and  grape  hyacinths.  The  ancestors  of  these  bulbs  were  planted 
long  ago — no  one  knows  just  when — and,  together  with  the  shrubs 
and  some  interesting  old  trees,  constitute  what  is  left  of  the  old 
planting,  though,  of  course,  the  terracing  and  general  outline  of 
the  garden  is  still  the  same.  And  it  Is  upon  this  foundation  that 
the  garden  is  being  rebuilt,  little  by  little,  the  location  controlling 
the  character;  for  it  lies  north  of  the  house  and  between  it  and  a 
line  of  old  stone  stables.  These,  in  the  days  before  the  railroads 
came,  housed  the  particular  wagons  and  horses  used  for  hauling 
farm  products  to  Alexandria,  sixty-five  miles  away,  and  bringing 
back  necessary  supplies  for  the  house. 

Parts  of  the  garden  are  much  shaded  by  houses  and  trees  and, 

[337] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

sloping  as  It  does  to  the  north,  the  tone  of  the  design  must  be  cool 
and  peaceful,  tending  more  to  grass  and  evergreens  and  massing  of 
shrubbery,  than  to  brilliance  and  bloom. 

It  is  probable  that  there  was  a  flower  garden  here  from  the 
first  occupancy  of  the  house.  But  it  is  certain  that,  in  1830,  Mr. 
Spence,  a  Scottish  landscape  gardener,  was  employed  to  embellish 
the  existing  grounds.  This  he  did  in  the  garden  proper  by  grading 
and  terracing  the  land  into  three  levels,  though  they  are  no  longer 
level  today.  The  lowest  of  these,  that  farthest  from  the  house  and 
next  the  stone  stables,  is  the  kitchen  garden.  Upon  the  inter- 
mediate terrace  is  a  pool  and  some  fine  old  white  pines  which  form 
a  pleasant  little  grove  of  seven.  The  principal  part  of  the  flower 
garden  lay  then,  as  it  does  now,  upon  the  highest  of  the  three 
levels,  and  was  entered  through  gates  set  in  a  picket  fence  that 
divided  it  from  a  little  lawn  next  the  house.  In  this  part  of  the 
garden  were  most  of  the  shrubs  and  all  of  the  flowers,  and  here 
Mr.  Spence  set  out  a  number  of  hemlocks,  probably  as  ornamental 
bushes.  They  are  now  large  trees,  and  two  of  them  frame  a  small 
vista  down  the  center  of  the  garden  to  the  pool.  A  number  of 
other  evergreens  must  have  perished,  though  they  can  be  remem- 
bered by  persons  still  living  and  are  described  as  having  been  of 
considerable  size.  Only  the  pines  and  hemlocks  survive  at  the  age 
of  about  ninety-three,  which  is  youth  itself  compared  to  the  oaks 
in  the  park. 

Some  work  of  additional  improvement  was  done  upon  the 
garden  about  1855.  But  then  came  the  war  and  destruction.  In- 
deed, so  far  as  the  garden  was  concerned,  the  tragic  years  that 
followed  were  worse  than  the  war  itself.  In  the  seventies,  Mr. 
George  H.  Burwell,  first,  died;  his  family  moved  away,  and  the 
place  was  rented.  No  doubt,  the  garden  was  allowed  to  grow  as  it 
pleased  and,  being  on  fertile  ground,  it  grew  into  a  jungle. 

When  the  present  owner  came  into  possession  of  the  property, 
in  1908,  there  were  only  single  foot-paths  through  great  tangled 
masses  of  shrubbery  and  scrub.     But  the  trees  were  still  there,  par- 

[338] 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 

ticularly  the  hemlocks.  The  terraces,  the  pool,  and  the  general  out- 
line were  also  there.  But  wild-cherry  trees,  a  foot  in  diameter, 
had  grown  up  in  the  flower  beds,  and  weeds  and  scrub  were  more 
than  head-high.  For  some  years  efforts  at  restoration  were  made 
without  professional  advice.  A  great  deal  of  clearing  and  renovat- 
ing was  done,  but  the  results  were  not  very  satisfactory  because  of 
the  lack  of  knowledge  of  garden  desig^t.  Much  moving  was  done 
and  some  planting,  but  the  sum  total  was  without  effectiveness,  be- 
cause it  was  without  a  closely-knit  composition.  The  essence  of  art 
lies  in  composition. 

What  was  desired  was  to  restore,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  old 
general  plan  of  the  garden;  to  remove  the  picket  fence  and  throw 
into  the  garden  the  little  lawn  next  the  house.  It  was  felt  that 
the  garden  plan  should  be  symmetrical  as  to  the  north  and  south 
axis  of  the  house,  but  it  was  in  the  close  interrelation  of  its  parts 
that  difficulty  was  encountered.  No  home-made  plan  seemed  satis- 
factory, so  there  followed  much  study  of  Humphry  Repton's  "The 
Art  of  Landscape  Gardening,"  of  Robinson's  various  fine  books, 
of  the  work  of  Charles  Eliot,  and  much  reading  of  the  Garden 
Magazine.  But;  at  length,  the  conclusion  was  reached  that  profes- 
sional advice  must  be  had,  both  for  purposes  of  economy  and  to 
obtain  a  workable,  livable  and  beautiful  result. 

Very  fortunately,  the  services  of  the  well-known  landscape 
designer,  Mr.  Warren  H.  Manning,  of  Boston,  were  secured. 
The  plan  that  Mr.  Manning  made  has  proved  most  satisfactory 
and,  though  it  is  still  far  from  being  carried  out  completely,  it  Is 
being  built  up,  little  by  little,  year  by  year.  The  problem  was  to 
utilize  the  basis  of  the  old  garden,  bring  it  Into  closer  association 
with  the  house,  link  up  all  the  utilitarian  parts  of  the  place, 
screen  out  the  unattractive  and,  in  short,  to  combine  the  useful  and 
the  beautiful.  In  addition,  the  plan  was  to  be  direct  and  simple 
and  permanent,  as  well  as  economical  In  upkeep.  A  difficult  prob- 
lem It  seemed,  and  It  Is,  to  the  untrained,  but  not  beyond  easy 
accomplishment  by  the  professional.     That  the  result  Is  free  from 

[339] 


^,^!»==  — tsace 

Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

labored  effect  may  be  understood  from  the  following  comment,  re- 
cently heard:  "I  don't  see  any  design.  Just  looks  like  two  walks 
and  a  lot  of  bushes." 

A  ripening  friendship  with  the  garden  and  the  needs  of  the 
family  have  determined  a  few  modifications.  It  is  doubtful  whether 
the  rose  garden  will  ever  be  made — certainly  not  in  the  place  shown 
in  the  plan.  More  probably  the  space  will  be  thoroughly  leveled 
for  bowls,  croquet  and  clock  golf,  and  the  west  and  south 
boundaries,  formed  by  low  retaining  walls  of  field  stone,  planted 
with  sedum,  wall-flowers,  and  rock-cress.  Probably  the  seats  in 
the  shrubbery  will  never  be  placed,  as  it  has  been  found  most 
pleasant  to  have  garden  chairs  and  tables  under  the  pines  near 
the  lily  pool.  Again,  it  was  found  that  the  arbor  vitae  hedge  on  the 
second  terrace  did  not  do  well  under  the  large  trees,  so  this  part 
of  it  has  been  replaced  by  a  border  of  cornels,  viburnums  and 
shrub  roses,  to  which  holly  is  being  added  from  time  to  time. 

Up  to  the  present,  the  design  has  been  carried  out  only  on  the 
first  and  second  terraces,  and  some  little  idea  of  the  material  used 
must  be  given.  In  the  corners,  against  the  north  side  of  the  house, 
are  American  holly  and  American  and  Japanese  mahonia,  under 
which  are  ferns.  Bordering  the  west  walk,  and  screening  the  ser- 
vice yard,  is  a  forsythia  bank  about  thirty  yards  long,  planted 
with  viridissima  and  inteiTnedia  edged  down  with  suspensa.  This 
is  now  about  eight  feet  high,  and  behind  it  are  a  few  small  flower- 
ing trees.  The  shrubbery  backing  the  herbaceous  border  to  the  west 
is  almost  entirely  of  lilac  and  mock-orange,  with  a  few  red  buds  to 
break  the  skyline.  This  shrubbery  is  not  much  seen  from  the  house 
in  winter,  and  the  unattractiveness  of  such  bushes  during  the 
dormant  period  is  not  conspicuous.  The  shrubbery  backing  the 
other  border  is  composed  of  viburnums,  cornels  and  barberries,  with 
some  edging  of  stephanandra.  On  the  terrace  bank,  under  the  pines 
and  near  the  pool,  are  summer  hydrangea,  sorbaria  Aitchisonii, 
aralia  and  ferns.     These  are  interesting  throughout  the  fall  and 

[340] 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 


winter,  as  is  also  a  neigliboring  American  Pillar  rose  with  its  red 
hips  on  an  ancient  cedar  tree. 

That  part  of  the  terrace  bank  lying  under  the  hemlocks  is 
covered  with  periwinkle,  both  giant  and  small.  Through  this,  stone 
steps  go  down  to  the  level  of  the  pool.  And  in  the  pool,  grow  pink 
and  white  nymphaeas  and  a  few  aquatics  especially  placed  there  for 
the  goldfish.  Around  the  edges  of  the  pool  are  several  clumps 
of  iris. 

In  bringing  to  life  this  old  garden,  and  keeping  it  simple  and 
unpretentious,  an  effort  has  been  made  to  regain  its  old-time  air 
of  restfulness,  livableness  and  charm;  to  make  it  possible  for  it  to 
become  more  and  more  beautiful  as  time  goes  on. 

J.    T.    BURWELL. 


[341] 


SARATOGA 


N  1772,  General  Daniel  Morgan  purchased  land  In 
what  is  now  Clarke  County,  Virginia,  and  five  years 
later  built  the  house  upon  this  estate,  naming  it 
Saratoga  in  honor  of  the  second  battle  of  Saratoga, 
October  19,  1777,  in  which  he  had  so  honorably 
served. 

At  the  second  battle  of  Saratoga  a  large  number  of  Hessian 
prisoners  had  been  captured  by  the  Continental  Army,  and  these 
prisoners  had  been  sent  to  Winchester,  not  many  miles  distant. 
Among  them  were  many  skilled  workmen,  especially  stone  masons, 
so  he  employed  a  large  number  of  them  to  build  for  him  a  house 
of  stone,  which  stands  today  in  excellent  preservation. 

The  estate  of  Saratoga  came  into  the  possession  of  the  family 
which  now  owns  it  through  Nathaniel  Burwell,  who  purchased  it 
in  1809.  He  married  Elizabeth  Nelson,  known  as  "Pretty  Betsy" 
Nelson,  of  Yorktown.  The  place  was  bequeathed  to  Mrs.  Robert 
Powell  Page,  of  "The  Briars,"  and  from  her  passed  to  her  son, 
R.  Powell  Page,  who  still  owns  it. 

From  the  porch  one  looks  down  on  a  bold  spring,  the  over- 
flow of  which  forms  a  pond  sufficiently  enticing  to  bring  the  ducks 
from  far  and  near.  Fine  oaks  formerly  covered  the  slope,  and  a 
row  stood  in  front  of  the  house,  but  the  last  of  these  were  de- 
stroyed in  the  storm  of  1922,  and  now  one  looks  across  the  grassy 
slopes  where  the  sheep  are  grazing,  to  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains, 
which  stretch  as  far  as  the  eye  can  see. 

Flowers  have  always  bloomed  here,  but  not  in  a  formal  garden. 
There  were  roses  and  shrubs  in  the  vegetable  garden  at  the  back 
of  the  house.  I  can  remember  the  servants  bringing  in  baskets  of 
rose  leaves  to  scatter  among  the  linen.  The  greenhouse  was 
eighteen  by  twenty-five  feet,  heated  by  a  brick  flue  which  encircled 

[342] 


The  Garden  at  Saratogi 


The  Old   Mill  Pond   at   Saratog:a 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 


it.  The  blossoms,  together  with  the  tropical  plants  in  large  tubs, 
were  very  attractive.  We  refugeed  the  winter  of  1862,  and  when 
the  family  returned  the  flowers  were  all  dead  and  the  glass  broken. 
Since  then  it  has  been  turned  into  the  dining-room. 

The  flower  garden  was  and  is  on  the  left  front  of  the  house, 
with  two  little,  gnarled  arbor  vitae  trees  still  keeping  watch  as  they 
have  for  generations  past. 

General  Lee,  in  June,  1863,  on  his  march  to  Gettysburg,  camped 
at  the  edge  of  the  woods  which  stretch  to  the  county  road  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and  General  Stonewall  Jackson,  before 
this  time,  in  October,  1862,  had  made  his  camp  in  the  glen. 


R.  Powell  Page. 


[343] 


ANNEFIELD 


N  1790,  Matthew  Page,  Esq.,  of  Broadneck,  Han- 
over County,  Virginia,  came  to  Clarke  County  and 
took  possession  of  a  tract  of  twenty-two  hundred 
and  eighty  acres  inherited  by  him.  He  began  the 
erection  of  a  beautiful  stone  house  that  year,  which 
he  named  Annefield,  after  his  wife,  a  sister  of 
Bishop  Meade.  Mrs.  Page  was  a  lover  of  flowers  and  a  garden 
was  laid  out  for  her  in  the  rear  of  the  residence. 

Part  of  the  estate,  with  the  house,  was  purchased  by  Thomas 
Nelson  Carter,  of  Pampatike,  in  1840,  and  his  wife,  "Sweet  Anne 
Page,"  who  was  also  a  great  lover  of  flowers,  made  many  addi- 
tions to  the  garden. 

The  central  part  was  reserved  for  flowers  only.  Surrounding 
this  on  three  sides  and  separated  by  a  lilac  walk  formed  by  a  double 
row  of  lilacs  twelve  feet  in  height,  plantings  of  box-bushes,  that 
are  now  fifteen  feet  high,  were  made.  Syringa  and  mock-orange 
were  also  set  out,  as  well  as  arbor  vitae.  One  of  these,  near 
the  entrance  to  the  garden,  was  pronounced  by  Professor  Charles  S. 
Sargeant,  of  the  Boston  Arboretum,  as  the  finest  specimen  he  had 
ever  seen. 

After  Mr.  Carter's  death  in  1866,  the  estate  was  bought  by 
his  son-in-law,  Robert  H.  Renshaw,  and  again  a  flower  lover 
wielded  the  fortunes  of  the  Annefield  gardens.  Mrs.  Renshaw  was 
Annie  Wickham,  of  Hickory  Hill.  In  speaking  of  her  second 
home,  she  said: 

"I  have  rarely  seen  such  lilac  bushes  or  such  blooms.  The  big 
clumps  of  syringa,  mock-orange  and  snowball  had  taken  entire 
possession,  and  I  fear  I  slashed  too  heavily.  The  syringa  by  the 
main  walk  as  you  enter  was  the  most  wonderful  I  ever  saw.  It 
climbed  up  into  the  evergreens  and  seemed  dazzlingly  white  when 

[344] 


The     Valley     of     Virginia 

in  bloom.  Its  stamens  and  pistils  were  pure  white.  I  carried  many 
things  to  Annefield — cowslips,  violets,  snowdrops,  daffodils,  and 
dwarf  iris — from  Hickory  Hill,  and  such  growth  I  never  imag- 
ined," Mrs.  Renshaw  planted  the  box-hedge  on  the  front  of  the 
garden.  She  introduced  many  perennials  and  the  old  hundred-leaf 
rose. 

In  1900,  the  estate  passed  into  the  hands  of  Edward  G.  Butler, 
and,  as  good  fortune  would  have  it,  Mrs.  Butler  was  an  enthusiastic 
garden  lover,  so  the  work  of  development  and  improvement  was 
carried  on.  At  the  end  of  the  main  walk,  a  hedge  of  white  lilacs, 
extending  back  to  an  orchard  of  small  fruits,  was  planted  on  both 
sides.  This  hedge  is  now  bordered  by  purple  iris.  The  main 
walks  she  edged  with  boxwood  and  to  the  already  fine  collection 
she  added  numerous  bulbs,  peonies,  and  Japanese  anemones.  A 
small  fountain,  surrounded  by  native  ferns,  a  bird  bath,  and  an  old 
sun-dial  were  next  placed  in  the  garden. 

The  rose  reigned  as  Queen  of  Annefield  and  many  new  beds 
were  laid  out  under  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Butler.  Records  of  the 
first  bloom  in  her  garden  in  1909  show  that  the  Gruss  an  Teplitz 
was  the  earliest;  May  22nd,  old  hundred-leaf;  May  29th,  Paul 
Neyron;  May  29th,  Frau  Karl  Druschki,  and  May  30th,  Mrs. 
John  Lang. 

The  approaches  to  the  garden  were  developed  by  Mrs.  Butler 
and  many  new  shrubs  planted.  On  one  side,  the  hardy  hydrangea 
bloomed  at  the  same  time  as  the  crimson  rambler,  which  was  trained 
over  the  end  of  the  old  laundry  and  presented  a  beautiful  effect. 
On  the  opposite  side,  bridal  wreath  spirea  was  massed  against 
the  kitchen  most  charmingly. 

In  1 92 1,  William  Bell  Watkins  became  the  owner  of  Annefield, 
and  Mrs.  Watkins  is  taking  a  keen  interest  in  maintaining  the 
old  garden. 

We  often  think  we  are  planting  flowers  and  roses  for  our  own 
enjoyment,  but  how  true  are  the  sentiments  in  the  poem : 

[345] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 


My  Neighbor's  Roses 

"The  rose  is  red  upon  my  neighbor's  vine 
Are  owned  by  him,  but  they  are  also  mine. 
His  was  the  cost  and  his  the  labor,  too. 
But  mine,  as  well  as  his,  the  joy  their  loveliness  to  view. 

"They  bloom  for  me  and  are  for  me  as  fair 
As  for  the  man  who  gives  them  all  his  care. 
Thus  I  am  rich,  because  a  good  man  grew 
A  rose-clad  vin-e  for  all  his  neighbors'  view. 

"I  know  from  this  that  others  plant  for  me. 
And  what  they  own,  my  joy  may  also  be ; 
So  why  be  selfish,  when  so  much  that's  fine 
Is  grown  for  you  upon  your  neighbor's  vine." 

Edward  G.  Butler. 


[346] 


Beyond  the  Mountains 


ja^UlKG        TTfcAICfc-    At-l,    /M20UMD 

^a?^*^  -J-./«^  ;^-^^«--_-_»  -^..K,*..*^ 

•£"4*  ^'SS     ^^^^^^^^.   S^ 


PLAN  o'-GARDE-N  ■" 

'THE  MEADOWS 


Gay  Robertson  Blackford 


THE   MEADOWS 

O  be  real  a  garden  must  be  secluded,  it  must  be 
fragrant,  and  It  must  be  ripened  by  years  of  close 
association  with  the  people  who  made  and  loved  it. 
In  the  year  1817,  Captain  Francis  Smith  and  his 
wife  bought  an  estate  of  three  thousand  acres  near 
the  town  of  Abingdon,  Virginia,  and  named  it 
Mary's  Meadows  in  honor  of  their  only  child,  Mary,  who  was 
then  only  five  years  old.  The  Bloor  Crown  Derby  china  made  for 
them  at  this  time  has  an  S,  with  "Mary's  Meadows"  in  gold,  orna- 
menting each  piece.  The  name  of  the  place  was  changed  later  to 
"The  Meadows." 

When  Mary  Smith  married  Wyndham  Robertson,  at  one  time 
Governor  of  Virginia,  the  family  lived  in  Richmond,  only  returning 
to  their  place  in  the  mountains  for  part  of  the  year.  After  the 
War  Between  the  States,  however,  the  Robertsons  made  The 
Meadows  their  permanent  home. 

The  grandson  of  Francis  Smith,  Captain  Frank  S.  Robertson, 
inherited  "The  Meadows."  As  a  student  at  the  University  in 
1 86 1  he  was  one  of  the  "Sons  of  Liberty"  that  aided  in  the  capture 
of  Harper's  Ferry  after  the  John  Brown  raid.  After  Virginia 
seceded  he  was  lieutenant  of  engineers  on  General  J.  E.  B. 
Stuart's  staff  until  General  Stuart  was  killed.  Then  he  served  as 
engineer  officer  on  the  staff  of  General  W.  H.  F.  Lee  until  the  close 
of  the  war  in  1865.  Since  that  time  he  has  made  "The  Meadows" 
his  home. 

The  Meadows  is  far  from  Tidewater  Virginia;  twenty-three 
hundred  feet  above  sea  level,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  Alleghany 
Mountains.  It  was  almost  on  the  frontier  in  the  year  18 19,  when 
the  big  garden,  covering  two  acres,  was  planned  and  most  of  its 
trees  and  shrubs  planted.    This  garden  was  surrounded  by  a  paling 

[349] 


Historic     Gardens    of    Virginia 

fence,  seven  or  eight  feet  high,  with  each  paling  sharpened  like  an 
arrowhead.  The  entire  fence  was  whitewashed  every  spring,  when 
the  walks  were  freshly  filled  with  tan-bark.  I  have  never  seen  tan- 
bark  used  for  this  purpose  anywhere  else,  but  even  months  later  it 
made  an  elastic,  quickly-drained  path  for  pedestrians  when  mud 
was  ankle  deep  on  the  country  roads. 

The  garden  sloped  gently  towards  the  east  and  towards  the 
house.  The  upper  half  was  laid  out  in  formal  beds  with  a  broad 
walk  dividing  it  in  equal  parts.  Down  the  center  of  this  walk  were 
apple  trees,  whose  branches  spread  out  on  either  side  forming  a 
long,  shady  aisle  in  the  heat  of  summer.  This  was  broken  only 
in  the  center  by  an  arbor  of  seven  sister  roses — red,  pink,  and  white 
roses  borne  on  the  same  cluster.  From  this  arbor  four  other  walks 
radiated  to  the  corner  beds  of  turf  which  seemed  to  rivet  the  plan 
together.  Groups  of  cedar  trees,  whose  branches  swept  the  grass, 
were  planted  diagonally  opposite  in  these  corner  beds.  To  balance 
them  was  a  gigantic  blackheart  cherry  tree,  and  a  service  berry  tree. 

Besides  these  corner  beds  there  were  eight  larger  beds,  formed 
by  the  intersection  of  the  walks,  each  one  grass-edged  and  bordered 
by  flowers.  The  flower  borders  were  not  supposed  to  interfere 
with  the  good,  homely  vegetables  for  which  the  beds  were  designed, 
and  which  were  laboriously  spaded  and  raked  every  spring. 

Perhaps  in  the  days  before  1861,  when  the  trees  and  shrubs 
were  pruned  carefully  and  when  the  servants  were  sufficient  in 
number  to  furnish  competent  gardeners,  the  vegetables  were  able 
to  hold  their  own  against  the  encroachment  of  the  flowers  which 
bordered  their  domain.  But  since  that  time  lilies  of  the  valley 
have  spread  in  many  thick  mats;  lilacs  and  snowballs  have  waved 
their  plumes  far  over  the  potatoes;  tulips  and  jonquils  have  as- 
sociated freely  with  the  onions,  while  white  violets  have  spread 
under  the  cedar  trees,  over  the  grass  and  among  the  currant  bushes, 
until  they  appear,  when  in  full  bloom,  like  a  light  fall  of  snow,  and 
the  passing  breeze  comes  laden  with  their  perfume.  In  the  seven- 
ties pink  hyacinths  grew  thickly  along  the  borders,  and  often  in  the 

[350] 


Beyond     the     Mountains 

grass  in  the  corner  beds.  One  of  the  servants,  "Uncle  Stephen," 
an  autocratic  white-haired  old  negro  butler,  announced  as  an  un- 
disputed fact  that  Easter  eggs  boiled  with  a  kettle  full  of  pink 
hyacinths  would  absorb  the  lovely  colour  of  the  latter.  The  chil- 
dren of  that  day  were  only  too  ready  to  believe  him  and  gathered 
masses  of  the  fragrant  blossoms  for  the  purpose.  When  the  eggs 
remained  hopelessly  white  "Uncle  Stephen"  was  not  in  the  least 
embarrassed,  but  turned  upon  the  old  fat  cook  "Aunt  Esther"  and 
accused  her  bitterly  of  conjuring  them. 

The  lower  half  of  the  garden  was  divided  into  rectangular 
beds,  and  most  of  the  small  fruits,  damsons,  plums,  currants,  and 
gooseberries,  bordered  them,  while  Indian  peaches,  wax-heart 
cherries,  Siberian  crab-apples  and  golden-yellow  pears  were  planted 
in  the  long  beds  nearer  the  eastern  fence. 

On  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and  covering  the  space  of  two  beds, 
variety  was  given  by  a  circle  of  cedar  trees  with  low-growing 
branches,  that  completely  surrounded  a  large,  octagonal  summer- 
house.  The  old  variety  of  sweet  pea — a  hardy  vine  bearing  clusters 
of  magenta-colored  blossoms,  struggled  to  keep  a  place  with  the 
climbing  roses  tangled  in  the  lattice.  Sidney  Lanier's  lines  always 
seemed  to  express  the  feeling  given  by  entering  this  covert  sweet- 
scented  with  cedar  and  violets: 

"O,  braided  dusk  of  the  trees  and  woven  shades  of  the  vine, 
While  the  riotous  noonday  sun  of  the  June-day  long  did  shine ; 
Ye  held  me  fast  in  your  heart  and  I  held  you  fast  in  mine." 

For  five  generations  the  children  of  The  Meadows  have  played 
in  the  old  garden.  In  summer,  hiding  in  the  thick  shrubbery, 
pulling  the  flowers  with  a  lavish  hand  and  eating  the  fruit,  ripe 
and  unripe.  In  winter,  when  the  shrubs  were  half-buried  by  snow 
and  all  paths  obliterated,  they  have  felt  the  spell  of  the  garden 
even  more,  perhaps.  The  exquisite  stillness,  the  flash  of  a  red- 
bird  and  the  scurry  of  a  little  molly-cottontail  seeking  shelter,  are 
apt  to  sink  deep  into  a  child's  memory. 

[351] 


Historic     Gardens     of    Virginia 

As  grown  women  many  of  these  children  have  lingered  long 
at  the  summer-house,  when  the  moon  was  full,  and  there  was  one 
spot  in  the  pleached  walk,  where  a  young  woman  of  the  first 
generation  reared  at  The  Meadows  told  her  granddaughter  that 
"love  had  first  been  whispered  in  her  ears."  And  she  was  barely 
sixteen,  but  read  early  Victorian  literature:  Scott,  Miss  Austen  and 
Mrs.  Sherwood! 

The  little  garden  at  The  Meadows  is  to  the  left  of  the  house, 
as  the  old  garden  is  to  the  right,  and  was  planned  a  few  years 
later.  It  was  laid  out  in  four  square  beds,  with  beds  at  either 
end  shaped  to  conform  to  the  road  which  curved  here  to  the  stables. 
The  box-hedge  to  the  east  was  a  screen  for  the  woodyard,  very 
thick  and  over  eight  feet  in  height.  The  other  box-hedges,  which 
outlined  the  beds,  were  trimmed  severely  every  spring;  but,  in 
spite  of  this,  they  reached  a  height  of  thirty  or  thirty-three  inches 
and  a  breadth  of  twenty-five,  encroaching  far  over  the  space  left 
for  the  walks.  The  sun-dial,  with  the  name  "F.  Smith"  and  the 
date,  1 82 1,  cut  sharply  into  the  slate,  was  placed  where  the  paths 
intersected. 

It  is  this  garden  that  later  generations  have  filled  with  old- 
fashioned  pinks,  daily  roses,  geraniums,  heliotropes,  and  hardy 
annuals.  The  bleeding  heart  and  deep-red  peonies  were  crowded 
in  with  phlox  and  mignonette;  but,  on  a  sultry  afternoon  in  August, 
the  smell  of  the  box  mingles  with  and  dominates  them  all. 

Gay  Robertson  Blackford. 


[352] 


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CACPET  HILL 


Metroptylitan   Engraviiig  Co. 


CARPET    HILL 


ITUATED  in  the  southwest  corner  of  Virginia,  in 
Washington  County,  is  the  quaint  old  town  of 
Abingdon,  headquarters  of  the  first  pioneers  west 
of  the  Appalachian  Range.  It  was  founded  in 
1788,  and  is  said  to  be  the  first  town  incorporated 
west  of  the  Alleghanies.  Here  Daniel  Boone  spent 
many  months,  and  Parson  Cummings  lived  most  of  his  life  as  a 
forceful  and  fearless  exponent  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  Militant. 
He  used  to  preach  with  his  loaded  rifle  in  the  pulpit  by  him  in 
case  of  an  attack  from  Indians. 

One  of  the  most  notable  places  in  this  section  was  Carpet  Hill, 
the  White  homestead  and  the  center  of  the  gatherings  of  that 
family  for  more  than  a  hundred  years.  The  name  originated 
from  the  mantle  of  blue  grass  that  covered  the  slope  and  was 
heavily  carpeted  with  violets  in  the  spring.  The  first  owner  of  this 
estate  was  William  Young  Conn,  who  bequeathed  it  in  turn  to  his 
nephew,  William  Young  Conn  White.  The  latter  married  Mar- 
garet Jane  Greenway  and  the  two  left  many  descendants,  a  few  of 
whom  still  live  in  Abingdon. 

From  the  house,  situated  on  the  top  of  a  gentle  rise,  could  be 
seen  nearly  thirty  miles  distant.  Mount  Rogers  and  White  Top 
Mountain,  the  two  highest  points  in  Virginia,  White  Top  with  an 
altitude  of  five  thousand  six  hundred  and  seventy-eight  feet  above 
the  sea  level. 

The  driveway  leading  up  to  the  residence  was  bordered  on 
either  side  with  stately  Norway  pines,  which  in  the  spring  became 
the  home  of  countless  blackbirds,  robins  and  orioles.  The  walks 
beneath  these  trees  were  covered  with  tan  bark,  the  color  of  which 
was  effective  against  the  dark  green  of  the  pines.    The  turfed  circle 

[353] 


Historic     Gardens     of     Virginia 

directly  in  front  of  the  house  had  a  walk  through  the  center  and 
large  elm  trees  on  either  side  of  the  driveway  around  it. 

The  dwelling,  a  large  rambling  frame  structure,  seemed  to  have 
been  designed  for  comfort  rather  than  architectural  beauty.  It 
was  surrounded  with  wonderful  old  trees — elm,  maple  and  walnut. 
Most  conspicuous  of  all,  however,  at  Carpet  Hill,  were  the  beau- 
tiful grounds  which  comprise  four  acres,  including  lawns  and  flower 
garden,  in  addition  to  a  large  acreage  in  vegetable  garden,  orchards 
and  meadow  land.  On  two  sides  of  the  lawn  was  a  hedge  of  purple 
lilac,  which  was  beautiful  and  fragrant  when  covered  with  its  count- 
less spring  blossoms,  but  decorative  for  two  seasons  with  its  com- 
pact foliage.  The  flower  garden  to  the  right  of  the  house  was  out- 
lined with  boxwood  about  thirty  inches  high.  The  borders  were 
filled  with  hyacinths,  pinks,  snapdragons,  hollyhocks,  a  wealth  of 
yellow  day  lilies,  and  many  other  old-fashioned  flowers.  Outside 
the  large  circle  were  beds  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  and  two  smaller 
circles  of  roses.  Sweet  violets  formed  a  carpet  underneath  the 
trees  near  the  garden,  and  many  spring  bulbs  bloomed  under  still 
other  trees. 

Some  distance  to  the  left  were  the  orchards  and  the  vegetable 
garden.  The  squares  for  the  latter,  each  of  which  comprised  one- 
third  of  an  acre,  were  outlined  by  flower  borders  which  showed  a 
profusion  of  bloom.  Conspicuous  among  the  flowers  were  holly- 
hocks, peonies  and  Harrison  roses.  Here,  during  the  War  Between 
the  States,  the  family  silver  service  was  buried  for  safe  keeping. 
Three  crops  of  potatoes  were  raised  over  it  before  any  one  dared 
unearth  it! 

The  vegetable  garden  was  oblong  in  shape  and  had  grass  walks 
throughout.  In  the  center  was  a  large  summer-house  covered  with 
wistaria  and  trumpet  vine,  and  some  of  the  borders  outlining  the 
squares  were  wide  enough  to  have  dwarf  pear  trees  planted  among 
the  peonies.  The  orderly  rows  of  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes 
were  also  here,  as  well  as  a  huge  strawberry  bed  and  picturesque 
grape  arbor.    The  orchard  proper  was  very  large  and  contained 

[354] 


Beyond     the     Mountains 


many  varieties  of  fruit,  though  apple  and  peach  trees  were  in  the 
majority. 

Recently  Carpet  Hill  was  sold  to  the  Presbyterian  Church  as 
the  site  for  Stonewall  Jackson  College. 

Margaret  White  Wilmer. 


[355] 


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